The Sinful Rose
by wolfmyjic
Summary: When bodies start turning up, the only link between them is a single rose bud found at every scene. Can Booth and Brennan track down the murder while the whole of DC is the hunting ground? Full Summary inside. [Ch. 7 is now up!]
1. Demoniac Dreams and a Vampire Killer

**A/N: Okay, so my muse, Branwyn, has come up with a new idea for a fic. I wanted something a little darker than what I normally do. Which is where this fic comes in. A little warning of such, this first few chapters talk about vampires. Please, please…PLEASE don't compare this to 'Buffy' or 'Angel'. I assure you, this is NOT a crossover of any kind. All information about vampires and all other strange creatures are my own thoughts, and thoughts I have come to believe.**

**Title: The Sinful Rose**

**Summary: When bodies start turning up, the only link between them is a single rose bud found at every scene. Can Booth and Brennan track down the murderer while the whole of DC is the hunting ground? And what happens when Booth's dreams take a demoniac turn? Can a soothsayer help discover what they mean?**

**Rating: 'T', for now….**

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'BONES' (I know, that sucks). I do own the plot line contained within, so that's been © WolfMyjic 2006.**

**UPDATED 12 November 2006 - this chapter has been added too.**

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Demoniac Dreams and Vampire Killer**

Special Agent Seeley Booth tossed and turned in his bed. His head was full of hellish nightmares and strange mixes of mutated faces. Sweat beaded across his forehead and his face was drawn up in a tortured mask. He had the sheet clenched with both hands, his leg muscles twitched, and soft groans and cries of worry fell from his lips. He was stuck between the world of dreams and reality, knowing that what he saw wasn't real, yet he was unable to wake himself. The movement behind his closed eyelids became more rapid as his thoughts became even darker. A shrill sound cut through the air and in Booth's dream it came from a large wolf. The demoniac, black monster threw back its head to howl, releasing an awful piercing sound that echoed in his head. The forest in which he stood grew darker as the battle between he and the black wolf raged. From the corner of his eyes, Booth saw his only hope, a much smaller wolf with shimmering silver fur and turquoise orbs shining at him. Again the black wolf threw back its head and howled. This time Booth sat straight up, the sheet falling from his bare chest. He closed his eye briefly against the darkness of his bedroom, but quickly opened them as fragments of his nightmare came back. His breath came in short, rapid gasps and his lungs burned with the effort of breathing. Booth reached up and wiped at his mouth and down his neck. He took a deep breath to steady his heart, before he reached over for the real shrieking beast- his cell phone. "Booth," he said, cursing his own voice for sounding shaky and hoarse.

"Are you okay?" the voice on the other end, Doctor Temperance Brennan, asked.

Booth fell back in bed before he spoke his lie, "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"Any reason you're calling at this God forsaken hour?" he asked, putting his free arm over his eyes.

"You haven't talked to Cullen?"

"Why would I?" he asked, before swallowing down the emotions that had began to settle in his throat as bits of his nightmare came back to him.

"We have a body," Brennan said. "Cullen said he was going to try calling you again."

"Again?" Booth questioned as he removed his arm and stared up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, he said that you weren't answering your phone. That's why he called me." Booth let out a frustrated sigh.

"You still at your apartment?"

"Waiting for you."

"Be there soon." Booth snapped his phone shut, slammed it against the softness of his mattress and closed his eyes. He took another deep breath trying clear out the last remaining fragments of his dream away. His heart began to race as the image of the black wolf run across his mind. He opened his eyes and sat up. "Get moving, boyo," he said out-loud.

Booth pulled to a stop in front of Brennan's apartment building, where he found his partner waiting just outside the main doors. He watched as Brennan made her way down the walkway to the SUV. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she got into the passenger seat.

"I told you I'm fine." Booth waited for her to settle her kit on the floorboard between her feet and then strap herself in.

"You look a little pale, that's all." Booth pulled the SUV away from the curb, before glancing over at her.

"Just…a bad dream," he said.

"Ah." The rest on the drive was done in silent, neither one in the mood to talk. When Booth pulled to a stop in front on a row of houses, one of which had a sign that read 'Mi Casa' in front of it, Brennan spoke, "What's Mi Casa?"

"It's a non-profit program," Booth began, "that was established in the early nineties. They help provide inner-city homes to low and moderate income families." They both got out of the SUV and made their way to the house with yellow crime tape. Booth flashed his badge then lifted the tape and followed Brennan under it. "Agent Wilson," Booth said as an agent approached. "What do we have?" Albert Wilson was a tall man, hovering slightly over Booth. His shoulders were more apt to that of a quarterback than an agent.

"The damnedest thing," Wilson said, his white teeth were set off by the darkness of his skin and in the pale light of dawn, Brennan noticed his brown eyes rivaled those of Booth. "A burned body that's missing the head." Booth and Brennan exchanged looks, before following Wilson into the row house. The first thing to reach their noses was the smell of burnt flesh. Booth pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over his nose and mouth to help filter the air. "The body is in there," Wilson said, nose pushed into the bend of his elbow. Brennan slowly advanced toward the living room fireplace. "This place has been empty for about three months," Wilson continued. "A neighbor called it in when he noticed smoke from the chimney."

"Have you found the head?" Brennan asked, looking up at the agent.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, pointing up. "Upstairs fireplace."

"Did you find anything else in the house?" Booth asked, as Brennan turned her attention back to the body.

"Just this, sir," Wilson said, holding up an evidence bag. "Found it next to the window there." Booth took the bag and studied the object- a black rose bud.

XxXxX

"Isn't it exciting?" Zack Addy said. Booth drew his brows together as he swiped his card and bounded up the steps to the center platform.

"A char-broiled body is exciting?" the agent asked.

"No, sir," Zack said, looking over at Booth. "But the fact that three point three-million-year-old fossilized remains of a child-like female- Australopithecus afarensis- have been uncovered in a sandstone slab in Ethiopia is. It's taken five years to completely remove it." Booth raised an eyebrow at Brennan.

"Translation, Bones."

"A set of bones dating back pre-modern human. Like the adult skeleton found in 1974."

"Lucy." Both Brennan and Zack turned and stared at Booth with their mouths open. "Right?" He asked, slightly nervous under their gazes, worried that he had gotten it wrong.

"You're correct," Brennan finally said.

"Oh, come on, don't look so surprise. I'm allowed to watch PBS sometimes, right?"

"They even found the hyoid bone," Zack went on. "That's not normally preserved in the fossilization process."

"Hyoid?" Booth questioned, brows drawn together in thought. "The tongue bone?"

"Correct again, Booth," Brennan said. "You've been paying attention after all."

"The hyoid bone reflects how the voice box is built and perhaps what sounds a species can produce," Zack piped in.

"Speaking of telling us things, what can our well-done body tell us?" Brennan took the hint and turned her attention to the remains before her.

"Well," she began, "our victim is male, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. His right fibula is broken; along with his left and right ulna, his right wrist and right elbow."

"So if we put that with what we knew at the crime scene, what do you have?" Booth asked.

"A burned body that's been beaten, stabbed through the heart, and decapitated," Brennan answered, turning toward her partner.

"So pretty much nothing."

"You know," Doctor Jack Hodgins said, coming to stand near the small group. "You kill a vampire by stabbing it through the heart."

"A vampire?" Booth questioned.

"Yeah, it's one of the only ways to kill them."

"And the chopping the head off?" Booth asked, his voice halfway serious but his eyes were laughing.

Hodgins crossed his arms. "Do you know nothing?" he shot. "After you stab a vampire, then it's good practice to behead it and burn both body and head. Just to make sure it's dead."

"I don't think our vic was a vampire," Booth said.

"Since they're not even real," Brennan pointed out.

"There are some who would disagree, Dr. Brennan," Zack said, earning three pairs of eyes on him. "After all, a few serious but rare diseases cause sensitive to sunlight, which many believe is the bases of the vampire myth."

"Myth, Zack," Brennan said. "Just because you get sunburned easily doesn't make you a vampire."

"Then how do you explain the evidence?" Hodgins questioned.

"I can't…yet," Brennan said. "But I'm certainly not going to say that some crazed vampire killer is stalking the city."

"Since we're talking about crazed people stalking others, where's Angela?" Booth asked.

"She took a few hours off," Hodgins informed him. "Said she had some person things to take care of."

"Have her do a sketch as soon as she can. See if she can give us a face for Dracula."

"That's not funny," Brennan scolded.

"Have you been able to identify the rose we brought back for ya?" Booth asked Hodgins, ignoring the glare Brennan was shooting him.

"I'm still working on that," the entomologist said. "But it shouldn't take too long."

"Good," Booth said with a nod and then turned his attention back to Brennan.

"I'll see what I can track down about the owners of the house. See if any of the neighbors saw anybody hanging around. I'll be back by later."

"Zack and I will keep working on the body," Brennan said. "See what the bones can tell us."

XxXxX

"I've come to the conclusion that neighbors aren't what they use to be," Booth said, walking into Brennan's office unannounced.

"Let me guess, nobody saw anything."

Booth flopped down on her couch with a groan. "Except for the old guy who called the cops, nobody saw anything. Half the people couldn't even tell me how long the family had been gone." Brennan folded her hands atop her desk.

"So who owns the house?" she asked, as she watched Booth lay down on her couch. One leg was thrown over the back and he put an arm over his eyes.

"The Kendrick family," he said, and then covered a yawn. "Ron and Gail Kendrick. Moved to Nevada a year ago with their three children, Max, Emma and Katie."

"Booth, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little tired."

"It's already eight," Brennan said. "Why don't you go home? We can go over finding tomorrow."

"I'm fine," he said, moving his arms to under his head. "What did you and the Zack-a-Roo find out? And did Angela give out a face?"

"No face yet, but Angela said she should have it tomorrow. The stab through the heart killed him. He received his other injuries before, possibly from a fight. The head was removed after the fact. Zack is trying to identify the tool used, although we're thinking it's an axe. Booth, are you listening?"

"What? Yeah, an axe."

Brennan stood from her seat and walked around the desk. "Go home," she said, pulling Booth's legs from the couch. "Go get some sleep." Booth nodded and agreed around a yawn.

"See ya tomorrow, Bones."

--

So there you have it. Not too dark yet, but I hope to turn it that way soon. 

Important Notes: The Australopithecus afarensis child found in Ethiopia is true and it is considered more complete than 'Lucy'. 

After killing a Vampire, it is good practice to chop off the head, and burn both body and head separately. 

'_Mi Casa' is a real non-profit program in the DC area._

_And the dream at the beginning will be explained later._


	2. Black Wolf Calling

**A/N: I'm so excited about this fiction, I hope you all are too. I've had fun researching all the facts that fill the chapters. Hope you learn something.**

**Shout out to Goldy: Hey girl, you know it's almost time, right? I feel like adding 'It's coming.' ::_evil music_:: Does anybody out there know what we are talking about ::_looks around_:: Maybe one day we'll tell you. ::_evil laugh_::**

**A/N# 2: If it's been awhile since you've read chapter one, I'll like to remind you that I changed it slightly.**

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_**Chapter Two:**_

_**Black Wolf Calling**_

Seeley Booth stood in his bathroom dressed only in his lounge pants. His brown hair was disarrayed and dark circles surrounded his chocolate eyes. He leaned over the sink, filled his cupped hands with cold water and splashed the cool wetness on his face. After two more splashes, he stood, placing his hands on both side of the sink and looked into the mirror. Booth filled his lungs with air, held his breath and closed his eyes until his chest began to burn. He dispelled the air quickly through his parted lips and opened his eyes. The creases between his eyes were deep and his skin was pale and drawn. "What's wrong with me?" he asked his reflection. Upon getting no answer, he pinched his lips together, reached out, shut off the stream of water and then turned from the mirror. As he walked out of the bathroom, he turned off the lights and then crossed his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. He threw an arm over his eyes and willed a dreamless sleep to come over him.

All too soon his sleep was interrupted by hellish nightmares. Booth looked around and took in the room where he stood. The walls were a pale blue and a large chandelier huge from the center of the ceiling. The light bulbs were dim and twinkling, and Booth was fearful that they would go out. A sound made him turn on his heels, his heart beating fast and hard under his ribs. Booth swallowed down the fear, and walked toward the closed door that the sound came from. He reached out for the handle and then stopped, suddenly afraid of what he might find. Again he heard the sound, and with a deep breath, he opened the door revealing darkness. Booth waited until his eyes adjusted and then stepped over the threshold. The hallway that he found himself in was cold and he couldn't fight the shiver that ran down his spine. He reached out and touched the wall to help guide himself as he began to walk slowly into the abyss. Suddenly a shrill reached his ears, and Booth's heart sank. He knew that voice- that scream. Without thinking about the consequences, he quickened his pace to a run. He skidded to a halt as he came to a fork in the hallway. His breaths came in short rapid bursts, as he looked one way and then the other. Both ways he saw only blackness. He strained his ears to hear, when again he heard the scream. Booth chose the left fork and began to run again. The hall seemed to go on and he began to wonder in he would ever find the end. Suddenly the narrow hallway opened up into a large room. Booth searched through the gloom for any signs but was only greeted with emptiness. He took a step back as a single light flashed before him, slightly illuminating a small circumference before him. In the dim light, he was able to see the dirty brick wall he stood near and a loud gasp escaped his lips as blood began to trickle down it. "They will die," a low, raspy voice said, drawing Booth's attention to the edge to the light circle.

"Who will die?" Goose flesh raised on his arms as a cold wind encircled him, bringing with it the same scream that he had followed.

"She will die. They will die." Booth squinted his eyes to try and see through the black for who was talking. "They all will die. They all will." The words gave way to a hellish howl, and Booth took a step back. He took another step back as a large black wolf stepped into the light.

"No." The word fell from his lips like a prayer mixed with a curse. Sweat beaded across his forehead and he wiped his hands down his thighs. The monster threw back his head and his evil howl echoed through the room. Booth took another step back as the wolf moved closer. "Damn it," he cursed when he felt his back hit something hard, and knew he was against a wall. He turned his hands and pressed his palms to the coolness of the wall and touched the wet, sticky blood.

"They will die," the wolf said, his eyes shining red.

"Who?" Booth asked, his voice barely above a terrified whisper.

"They will die!" The wolf stepped forward again, his teeth bared. Booth turned his head, and closed his eyes tight, preparing for the attack. When it didn't come, he cracked his eyes opened slightly. Before him a smaller wolf stood before him, staring at the black wolf. The smaller wolf had shimmering fur that stood straight up down her back. Booth could hear growls coming from both the wolves, and took the opportunity to slowly move sideways against the wall, moving away from the standoff. He was almost to the door when the black wolf jumped and the smaller one meet him in the air. Growls and barks filled the air and Booth sat up.

His heart was beating fast and sweat dripped down his face. He let out a heavy sigh and let his eyes drift close. Booth wiped a hand over his mouth and then reached out and snatched his cellphone from his nightstand. He flipped it open and growled his greeting. "Booth."

"I'll meet you there," he heard his partner say.

Booth drew his hand down his face. "What?" He heard a sigh on the other end.

"At the body," Brennan said. "Don't tell me you haven't talked to Cullen." Booth pulled his phone from his ear and looked at the screen that told him he had three missed calls.

"Damn it," he said, replacing the phone.

"Are you okay, Booth?"

"I'm fine. Just…stay at your apartment. I'll be there in twenty minutes." He didn't wait to hear her answer before snapping the phone shut. Booth squeezed his eyes together and swallowed hard. _God help me,_ he thought, then stood and walked toward the bathroom.

XxXxX

"Have you thought about taking a vacation?" Brennan asked as she climbed into Booth's SUV.

"I don't need a vacation, Bones." Brennan reached over her shoulder for the seatbelt and then strapped herself in.

"This is twice that you missed Cullen's call. You haven't been sleeping well, you look tired all the time, and honestly, you've been a little cranky lately."

"I'm fine," Booth snapped as he pulled out onto the street.

"Just a suggestion," Brennan said, leaning back in her seat and turning her head to look out the side window.

"What did Cullen tell you about the body?" Booth asked. After he had taken a quick shower he gave Cullen a call, but his boss simply told him the location and then to ask Brennan about the rest.

"Some remains were found with two bullet holes in his chest."

"And how is this our case?"

Brennan turned to look at her partner, "Not only are the remains burned, but they found a black rosebud at the scene."

"Like what we found with Dracula," Booth stated. "We may have a serial killer."

"Duh," Brennan said causing Booth to laugh.

"Been hanging out with Angela a little too much there, Bones." He threw a smile in her direction before bringing his eyes back to the road before him.

"You had another nightmare." It was a statement more than a question. Booth's tongue darted out to wet his dry lips before nodding.

"Yeah," he answered. "This is the fourth one. All different, but some things are the same."

"Want to talk about it?" Brennan's offer surprised him and Booth glanced over at her.

"Not really," he said. "But…thanks for the offer."

"No problem." Silence fell over the partners as each retreated into their own thoughts. As they drove through the darkness, Booth's mind drifted back through his nightmares and again, he couldn't fight the shiver. His heart rate sped up slightly, and his hands began to sweat. "Booth." He shook his head and turned toward Brennan. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, why?" The last thing he wanted was for Brennan to know that his nightmares were affecting him as much as they were.

"Um, you just missed the turnoff," she replied, jabbing a thumb over her left shoulder. Booth looked in the rearview mirror and cursed under his breath as he saw the gas station that stood at the end of the road they were looking for. "You sure you're."

"I'm fine," he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. Booth slowed the SUV and turned into the parking lot of a closed store. He stopped the vehicle, and put it in park. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Don't worry about it, Booth," Brennan said, crossing her arms under her breasts and turning away from him.

"But I am worried about it. I shouldn't have snapped, and…I'm sorry." Booth saw one of Brennan's slender shoulders raise and fall in a half shrug.

"It's fine." With a heavy sigh, Booth ran a hand over his face, then put the SUV into drive and pulled away from the parking lot, heading back toward the gas station. Ten minutes later, they pulled to a stop in front of an abandon, dilapidated house. They both got out without a sound and began the walk toward the scene- the space between them somewhat larger then what it normally is.

"Agent Booth," a young agent said, walking toward them with an outstretched hand. "I'm Ron Glenavon."

"Agent Glenavon, this is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan."

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Brennan." Glenavon shook Brennan's hand and then pulled out his notebook. "Some teenagers found the remains when they were looking for a make-out place," he said, turning from the partners and heading into the house. "They ran from the house, and had the sense enough to call the cops. When they saw the body, they called us and when I saw the rosebud, I called you two."

"Was anything touched?" Booth asked holding the crime tape up for Brennan to go underneath.

"No, sir." They ascended the stairs and stepped into the house that was lit by large spotlights. The same smell of burnt flesh reached their nose, making Booth draw up his face and reach for his handkerchief.

"Never get use to the smell," he said, as he followed Brennan in. He noticed that Glenavon stopped just outside the front door to wait for them. Brennan simply glanced over her shoulder at him, as she put down her kit and knelt by the remains.

She pulled on a pair of latex gloves with a snap as she started, "Male, possibly eighteen to twenty-five." Brennan scanned the body and nodded. "Looks like two bullet holes in the chest, fractured left femur and right humerus."

"Can you tell if the bullets killed him?"

Brennan shook her head no. "Not yet, but we'll know more when we get him back to the labs." Booth nodded and picked his eyes from the burned remains to look around the room.

"Where's the rosebud?" he asked turning to face Glenavon.

"On the mantle, sir." Booth nodded, then walked over to the fireplace. Sitting there was the same black rose from the first crime scene. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as images of the black wolf ran across his mind.

"Booth?" Brennan waved a hand in front of his face causing him to jump slightly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You got an evidence bag?" Brennan nodded, walked to her kit and then returned with an opened bag. Booth picked up the rose carefully with his handkerchief and then placed it in the bag. Brennan sealed it up and held it out to Booth. "A rosebud is an odd calling card."

"Maybe it means something to the killer," Brennan offered.

"What does a black rose mean?" Booth asked looking over at Brennan, who shrugged.

"Not my department," she answered. "Let's get the remains back to the labs." Booth nodded and then turned to Glenavon to give him orders.

XxXxX

"Twenty billion years," Zack Addy said as he and Brennan examined the burned remains.

"Until you get a date?" Booth asked as he swiped his card and bounded up the stairs of the center platform.

"Be nice, Booth," Brennan warned. Booth gave her a smirk as he joined the two.

"I was talking about a new Doomsday theory."

"Doomsday? Well that's depressing."

"Robert Caldwell from Dartmouth University and Marc Kamionkowski and Nevin Weinberg from the California Institute of Technology developed a theory that says the universe will die as galaxies, stars, and planets are violently ripped apart. It started in nineteen ninety when scientists realized that the universe was expanding, much like it was being sucked outward. Caldwell asked the question- What would happen if the rate of acceleration increased instead of proceeding at a steady pace?"

"The Big Rip," Hodgins answered as he joined the group.

"And that means what?" Booth asked.

"Image that the universe is a car," Zack said. "Most of the theories out there hold that the universe is increasing at a constant rate. It's a car traveling at twenty miles per hour- never slower, never faster. However the Big Rip theory says that the car starts traveling faster and faster and faster- and eventually so fast that it just shreds into thousands of pieces."

"Cool," Booth threw in.

"Caldwell explained," Zack went on. "That the expansion becomes so fast that it literally rips apart all bound objects. It rips apart clusters of galaxies, stars, planets and solar systems."

"And it eventually rips apart all matter," Hodgins finished.

"Well, that just ruined my day," Booth said.

"But think of if the theory is right," Zack said excitedly. Booth leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms.

"I'm thinking, but I must say, other than the fact that I'm glad I'll be long gone in twenty billion years, I can't come up with anything."

"Wormholes," Hodgins told him.

"What?"

"If the theory is correct then things like wormholes and space travel could become real science."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Brennan asked, looking up at the three men.

"Why not?" Booth asked.

"It's ridicules," Brennan said.

"How do we know what's possible?" Hodgins asked.

"Yeah, Bones. After the Big Rip thingy happens, how do we know what's gonna happen?"

Brennan shook her head. "On to the remains," she said, changing the subject.

"What have you got for me?"

"Once the remains were cleaned, we were able to see that all the phalanges on the right hand has been broken, as well as the left radius."

"Before or after the fact?"

"Some before, some after. The two bullets pierced his left lung and lodged into his heart. Doctor Saroyan is working on that right now."

"Correction, Doctor Saroyan has fininshed working on that," the doctor said, scanning her card and walking up the stairs. She held out a small bag with two bullets to Booth. "Your bullets." Booth reached out for the bag, his fingers brushing against hers slightly.

"Thanks," he said. He held the bag up to the light and examined the contents.

"Can I see those?" Hodgins asked already plucking the bag from Booth's hand.

"Sure," Booth said half-heartedly. "What else do we know?"

"Not much," Brennan continued, ignoring the contact. "Angela is going to give us a face, see if we can ID him, since we didn't find a wallet or anything."

"Good," Booth said, but his eyes were on Hodgins.

"I don't think these are normal bullets, Booth," he said.

"And why not?"

Hodgins dropped the bag from his face. "Can I run some tests on them?"

"Sure," Booth answered with a wave of his hand. Hodgins smiled and quickly walked away.

"Agent Booth," a voice said from the bottom of the stairs. The agent turned to see one of the security guards standing there. "Agent Booth, this was just delivered for you." Booth tossed a Brennan a confused look before walking down the stairs and taking that envelope.

"Who delivered it?"

"Actually, I found it on the counter," the guard said. "I had my back turned answering a question, and when I turned back this was there."

"Thank you," Booth said. He turned and moved back up the steps and took the gloves Brennan offered. He laid the envelope down, snapped on the gloves and the opened it. From inside he pulled a piece of paper and quickly scanned it.

"What does it say?" Saroyan asked.

Booth cleared his throat before he read out loud, "Red roses symbolizes eternal love, respect, courage, passion and reveal an unconscious beauty." He paused briefly. "They will all die," he said, the words echoing in his mind from his nightmare.

"Who will?" Zack asked. Before Booth could answer the same security guard's voice spoke.

"Dr. Brennan," he said, drawing everybody's attention to him. "These were left for you." He held up a bouquet of twelve red roses.

* * *

_Now, aren't you glad we have 20 billion more years before we have to worry about the Big Rip? Hope I didn't make you too depressed._


	3. The Effect of 12 Red Roses

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I posted. Life has been busy. This chapter picks up right after chapter 2, so you many need to scan through 2 just to jog your memory.**

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

**The Effect of 12 Red Roses **

"You're being ridiculous, Booth," Brennan said, walking into her office. She removed her blue lab coat, hung it up and the dropped into her desk chair.

"You heard that note," Booth pointed out. "Then you get a dozen red roses."

"How do you know they have anything to do with each other?" she asked. "How do you know the roses weren't some…_fan_ or something?"

"Oh, come on, Bones, the card said _enjoy them now, for they will die_. If they're from a fan then he's one sick, twisted bastard." Booth put his hands on his hips, his fingers spread across the bone, and began to pace. "Whoever sent the roses sent the note," he reasoned out loud. "And whoever sent the note is probably our killer."

"How do you know that the killings and the note are related?" Brennan questioned.

"Meet the Black Baccara," Hodgins said from the open door. Booth and Brennan both turned their attention to the scientist who held up one of the two black rosebuds.

"Do what?" Booth asked.

Hodgins stepped into the office. "The Black Baccara," he said again. "That's the name of your mystery rose here. There is no such thing as a true black rose, but while a bud, the Black Baccara's color is the closest to black a rose can come. As they open, the color changes to a deep rich shade of blueberry and burgundy."

"Great, so we know what it is, but still don't know why our killer is leaving them for us," Booth said.

"Maybe," Hodgins began, "it has something to do with the relationship with the color black and magic. Or maybe it's something to do with what a black rose invokes in a person. The feeling that it's unattainable, improbable and unnatural." Booth and Brennan exchanged glances before turning back to Hodgins.

"What about the bullets?" Booth asked.

"Ah, yes, I've found something you might be interested in. Neither one of those bullets were normal."

"What do you mean?" Brennan asked, sitting forward in her chair.

"Both were custom made. One was pure silver and the other was a mercury mixture."

"Mercury?" Booth and Brennan said at the same time.

Hodgins nodded. "I think we have ourselves a werewolf out there on the table."

"A werewolf?" Booth laughed. "First a vampire and now a werewolf."

"Hey, I'm not the one doing the killin'," Hodgins defended. "According to legend, the only way to kill a werewolf is with a pure silver weapon, a bullet, a knife, a spear, something like that. Alchemist use to think that silver was magical, and in fact it does have the highest thermal conductivity."

"Are you talking about silver?" Zack asked as he walked up to Hodgins back.

"As a matter of fact, I was telling Booth and Dr. Brennan about our werewolf," Hodgins answered stepping out of the younger man's way.

"Did you know," Zack began, "that the Romans, Greeks, Babylonians and other ancient societies used silver to build artifacts like coins and talismans? Because of the supposed power it held."

"That's great and all," Booth said. "But what does that have to do with Van Helsing in there?"

"Oh," Brennan said excitedly, "I know who that is. Doctor Abraham Van Helsing. He was an anthropologist."

"I was thinking more along the lines of Gabriel Van Helsing from the movie."

Hodgins snickered as Brennan asked, "They made a movie?"

Booth waved his hand dismissively. "Okay, that could explain the silver bullet, Hodgins," he said. "But what about the mercury? And why was he burned?"

"Simple on both accounts. When the werewolf legend came about, mercury was thought of as a kind of silver. In fact it was called quicksilver. It can form an ally with silver but, as you know, it's not related to silver." Booth nodded and waited for Hodgins to continue. "Alchemists thought of mercury as the first matter from which all other metals were formed. So over the years, the translation could have been wrong and it's mercury that kills werewolves and not silver."

"Which is why the two bullets," Booth said.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Hodgins agreed.

"Okay, so what about the burning?"

"Same kinda thing. Just stabbing or shooting a werewolf through the heart or head doesn't mean it's gonna die. They do, after all, have great regeneration abilities."

"Of course," Booth said.

"Either the head is suppose to be cut off or the heart cut out and burned. Since the whole body was set ablaze, I would say that our killer got interrupted before he could finish."

"Where do you come up with this stuff, Hodgins?" Brennan asked.

"This is all proven fact," he said, and then with a shrug added, "Anyhow, I use to date a girl."

"So we have a vampire and a werewolf," Booth stated before Hodgins could dive further into his memory.

"Correction, we have two men killed by someone who _thought_ he was killing a vampire and a werewolf," Brennan said.

"Either way, we have two burned bodies, two black roses, one note and a dozen red roses." Booth scrubbed a hand over his face. "What does that tell us?" Hodgins and Zack exchanged looks before both shrugged.

"It tells us that we have one sick bastard out there," Brennan said, repeating Booth's words from earlier.

XxXxX

"I don't need you to check out my apartment," Brennan complained as Booth took the keys from her and started to open the door.

"Would you just let me do this," he pleaded. "Would it kill ya to let me be an agent for half a second and do my job?"

Brennan crossed her arms, rolled her eyes and huffed out a heavy breath. "Fine.

"Thank you." Booth unlocked the door, and then cracked it up slightly. He dropped the keys into his pocket and reached for his gun. He used the tip of his foot to open the door further and slowly entered the darkened apartment. His eyes were alert as he scanned around the room. "I'm gonna check," he began quietly then stopped as he felt Brennan run into his back.

"You didn't say to stay outside," she quickly said in way to defend her actions. Booth rolled his eyes up and prayed.

"I'm gonna check the rest of the apartment," he whispered. "_Stay_ here." Brennan nodded and Booth moved away from her. After a few minutes he returned. "It's all clear."

"Told you there was nothing to worry about," Brennan said, walking over and turning on the lights.

"You never think there's anything to worry about," Booth pointed out as he put his gun back into its holster.

"Beer?"

"Um, yeah, thanks." Brennan nodded once and then walked into the kitchen and pulled out two bottles from the refrigerator, then turned and held out one to Booth.

"You really think that our killer sent me those roses?" Booth brought the bottle to his lips, tipped back his head and let the cool liquid fill his mouth. He swallowed and then nodded his agreement.

"I do. How else can you explain the black rosebud, the note and bouquet?"

"Could be a group of action completely unrelated," Brennan pointed out as she crossed into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"I don't think so," Booth answered turning and leaning his backside against the counter. "Too many things are too close." He pinched his lips together to keep from telling Brennan about the words in the note echoing the words in his nightmares.

"I'm still not so sure, Booth," Brennan said. "It all seems a little…odd to me."

"Maybe," Booth agreed. "But it's all we have to go on." He watched Brennan use her foot to remove her shoes and then pull her feet up beside her. He enjoyed the moments he got to watch his partner without her knowing. It were these moments that Booth felt like he really knew her.

"I know," she said suddenly, looking up at him and catching his stare.

"Know what?" Brennan didn't answer, instead she took a drink of her beer. "Know what, Bones?"

"About you and Dr. Saroyan." Booth choked on his recent swig and had to put his hand over his mouth.

"What about us?"

"Oh, come on, Booth, I'm not blind. And despite what you and everybody else think, I _am_ a scientist, it's my job to observe. Did you really think I wouldn't pick up on the signs?" Booth reached up and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck- massaging the knot that had settled into the muscle there. "I wanted to keep our agreement," she went on. "But I have to ask if your relationship with Saroyan is the reason for your sudden mood change."

"What? Of course not," Booth said.

"Okay, Booth, I just had to ask."

"Cam and I did have a few… _encounters_, but it's been awhile and it certainly isn't affecting my work."

"If it's not that, then what's been going on?"

Booth put his empty beer bottle on the counter behind him before he answered. "I told you, I haven't been sleeping well."

"Is that all?"

"Thanks for worrying, Bones, but I'm fine," he said. "Lock the door when I leave." Brennan nodded and watched Booth cross to the door. "I'm fine," he tossed over his shoulder, emphasizing the words. "But thanks for worrying." Brennan stood from the couch and walked over to where Booth stood by the door.

"You're my friend, Booth, of course I'm going to worry." She reached out and touched his arm. "I'm here when you're ready to talk." Booth nodded and then opened the door.

"See ya tomorrow, Bones." With that he was gone, leaving Brennan's goodnight floating in the air. She closed the door, locked it and then leaned against it. She let out a heavy sigh, before turning and heading toward the bathroom for a shower.

XxXxX

Booth sat on his couch, feet propped on his coffee table and the TV remote in his hand. He aimlessly flipped from one channel to the next, not seeing what was on. He glanced up with blood shot eyes and noticed the time – 3:46 AM. A groan escaped from his lips as he let his head fall back. He knew that he should try to sleep, but was afraid of the nightmares that had been haunting his nights. If Brennan was worried about him, then he knew that his work was beginning to be effected, but he didn't know what to do about it. He gave a loud yawn and let his eyes drift shut. Maybe tonight would be the night his dreams weren't interrupted.

The moon was a silvery ball of ice that hung in the middle of a blanket of stars. The light from the moon fell through the tress casting eerie shadows on the ground. The air was stifling yet the wind sent chills along Booth's spine. He turned in a slow circle taking in where he stood, and looking for the black wolf that he knew would show up. The soft sound of water reached his ears, and Booth found the pull stronger than his fear. With hesitative steps, he began the journey toward the sound. As he walked, he passed through the pools of silver moonlight and felt his hope rise, only to feel it fall as he stepped into the shadows. The quietness of the night was interrupted by a scream that made Booth stop in mid motion. He ran his tongue over his lips and searched through the gloom. Nothing. Again he heard the scream, and began to run toward it. The dry leaves crunched under his feet as he pounded through the forest. He skidded to a halt as the trees fell way to a flat area with a lake in the middle. On the far side of the lake was a stream that trickled in, giving off the sound that had first pulled Booth to move. Again the scream caught his attention, and Booth searched for the source. The scream from the last nightmare he knew, but this one was different. He couldn't place who it was. "They will die," the raspy voice said and Booth spun around to face the black monster.

"Who?" he demanded.

"They will all die."

Booth shook has head violently. "Who will? Is it Bones?" The wolf took a step forward, but this time, Booth didn't retreat. He pushed back his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly. "Tell me," he demanded. The wolf looked up with eyes like black diamonds.

"They will all die," he said again. "Choose."

"Choose who?" Booth asked. The wolf threw back his head and sent up a long howl. As the howl went on, gray clouds began to cover the moon and the temperature dropped.

"Choose," the wolf repeated- the word turning into a howl. Booth sat up in bed with his heart pounding, the word '_choose'_ floating around his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. He scrubbed both hands over his face and fell back in bed with a groan. _Maybe Bones is right_, he thought. _Maybe I need a vacation. _

* * *

_Please be kind...and tell me what you think._

_And sorry for all the dream scenes, I know some of you don't like them. But they do play a huge part in this fiction._


	4. The White Wolf Talks

**A/N: We are moving right along with this fiction. I hope (_Hope)_ to have the next chapter up next week. Be warned, this chapter doesn't have alot of 'real' action in it. I deal a lot with Booth's nightmares in this one. But I needed to get some inner facts out there. No worries though, the murderer is back next chapter and we learn some new clues (yay!). Since Goldy is moving and all that good stuff, this chapter as no beta what-so-ever. Sorry for any mistakes. **

**UPDATED 4 Dec 2006 - Thanks to BonesDBchippie, this chapter has been corrected. Just minor things.**

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Demoniac Dreams and Vampire Killer**

"I don't like it," Booth said as he entered Brennan's office through the open door. Brennan looked up from the papers that were spread out before her in time to see her partner begin to pace.

"I didn't think it was that bad," Brennan replied. "In fact, Angela said it was, and I quote, cute."

Booth stopped in mid-step and looked over at the doctor. "What are you talking about?"

"See how confusing a conversation is," she began, "when one member begins before the second member join. I was referring to my outfit. It's new and I wasn't sure about it. Now your turn, what were you talking about?" Booth ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"The case, Bones, I was referring to the case. It's been two days since we found the werewolf. Shouldn't we have although body by now?"

While Brennan shuffled the papers into one pile she said, "Isn't it a good thing that we don't have another body?"

"Not really. It means that our killer is toying with us." Brennan shoved the pile of papers into a folder then sat back in her chair.

"Maybe the killer simply wanted to kill our two victims." Booth sat down on Brennan's couch and looked up at her.

"Do you really think that it's over? That he won't kill again?"

"You never know," Brennan said with a shrug. "Anyhow, we all have things that we pushed aside to work on the case, and except for Angela, we're all back to working on previous projects. Until you bring us something new, Booth, there's not much we can do."

"I know," he said, rubbing his hands over his face. "It's just that I know the killer is out there, possibly watching us and we have no idea to who he is."

"You still haven't been sleeping well, have you?" Booth looked up at her with tired eyes.

"No," he answered honestly. "Every time I fall asleep I have these nightmares." A yawn escaped from his lips as he turned and stretched out on the couch. "I wake up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding."

"Have you tried exercising before bed?" Booth nodded.

"A hot bath?" Again, a nod.

"Warm milk and brandy?"

"Minus the brandy, yes," he said. "I've tried drinking myself to sleep, reading, watching TV, everything. I always have nightmares and I always wake up." Brennan was quiet for a moment as she watched Booth's eyes drift shut.

"Have you tried having sex?"

"Is that an offer?" he questioned, his eyes wide open and serious.

"Um, no," Brennan answered, her cheeks slightly warm with a blush. "But I'm sure you could find someone, and it normally makes one sleepy."

"Thanks for the suggestion, Bones," he said, "I'll keep that in mind." Again his eyes began to drift close, and Brennan let him rest.

"Dr. Brennan," Dr. Saroyan said, scanning her card and walking up the steps of the center platform. "Are you aware that Booth's car is parked outside?"

"Yes," Brennan answered as she picked up a piece of bone to look at closer.

"And are you aware that Booth isn't in his car?"

"Yes."

Saroyan crossed her arms. "Well, do you know where he's at, then?"

"Yes," Brennan said again, setting the fragment down and jotting something down on a piece of paper.

"Well, are you going to tell me?"

Brennan looked up from her work. "All you had to do is ask, Dr. Saroyan. He's in my office."

"And just what is he doing in your office?"

"Sleeping." With that Brennan went back to the remains before her.

"Why is he sleeping in your office?"

"Because that's where he fell asleep, and I didn't see any reason to wake him."

Booth sat up disoriented. His heart was pounding and he struggled to figure out where he was. He rubbed the heel of his hands over his eyes and looked around his surroundings. With a sigh of relief he recognized Brennan's office. Booth stretched his arms up over his head and then cracked his neck. He swung his legs off the couch and then stood. A glance at his watch told him that he had been sleeping for three hours. _Not a bad little nap_, he thought. _Until the nightmare began._ Booth stretched again, walked to the door and opened it. The lab was quiet and empty, but he spotted Brennan standing atop the center platform and he made his way over to her. As he climbed the steps she looked up and noticed him. "Sleep well?"

"A few hours of restful sleep, thank you." Brennan smiled and then dropped her eyes back down to her work.

"Dr. Saroyan came by looking for you earlier."

"Do you know what she wanted?"

"I'm not your secretary, Booth, but I know she's mad that I wouldn't let her wake you up." She looked up at him through her lashes and offered him a small smile.

"You didn't tell her about…?"

"No," Brennan said, answering his question. "I just told her that you fell asleep and that I didn't see any reason to wake you up." Booth nodded and ran a hand through his hair.

"Thanks," he said. "I don't want everybody offering me advice about my nightmares." Brennan closed the notebook she was writing in and then leant back on the railing.

"You sure you don't want to talk about them?" Booth sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out.

"They always start out different," he began. "Once I was in a room, next I was standing in the forest." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Things begin to happen and there this wolf." A shiver ran down Booth's spine. "And screams." He brought his eyes up and locked gazes with Brennan. He realized that he was about to revel more about his nightmares than he wanted. "Listen, thanks again for the nap, but I need to be going." Brennan gave him a small nod of understanding. "See ya tomorrow."

"Night, Booth."

The sun was bright above Booth's head, causing him to throw a hand up to shield his eyes. He swallowed hard to try and wet his parched throat. A glance up at the empty sky filled him with dread. Booth quickly scanned the area that he stood in and found nothing. He squinted his eyes against the bright, dry heat, but still saw nothing. Turning in a slow circle, Booth searched for anything that would tell him were he was. In the distant, the outline of a hut came into view, and Booth started off toward it. Sweat beaded across his forehead and upper lip. As he walked, his feet grew heavier, making it difficult to continue. Booth's tongue darted out and ran over his lips, and he tasted blood. "Too damn hot," he said through his cracked lips.

"Water awaits," he heard a voice say. Booth spun around and came face to face with his white savior.

"Why have you brought me here?" Booth questioned. He watched the wolf as she began to walk around the agent.

"I didn't," the white wolf answered. "The black demon wolf brought you here, I only intercepted the dream."

"Why?" he asked shaking his head.

"So we can talk." Booth turned to watch the wolf walk in a circle.

"Talk about what?" he asked, wiping a hand over his face a clear off the sweat.

"You," the wolf said, starting to walk over toward the hut. Booth drew in a hot, stringing breath and then followed the wolf.

"Why do you want to talk about me?" the agent asked.

The wolf didn't slow her trot, but answered, "The black demon wolf is after you. You must prepare."

"Prepare? Prepare for what?" The white wolf stopped and turned to face Booth.

"A fight for your life." Booth drew his brows together. "I can't hold back the black demon for long. Soon his nightmare will begin and you will continue with the torture."

"Are you saying that somebody is causing me to have these nightmares?"

"Haven't you been listening?" the white wolf asked. Above them the sky began to darken. "He's breaking through. Listen to me- you must fight. Those you care about will be put in harms way. You're going to have to make hard choices, Seeley Booth. No time to be wishy-washy." A bolt of lighting sliced across the now blood red sky. "It's begun." Booth dropped his eyes from the sky to find the wolf was gone. A prayer fell from his lips and he began to walk again toward the hut. The heat the sucked the air from his lungs suddenly dropped in temperature causing his overheated body to begin to shake. Booth wrapped his arms around his torso and rubbed his hands over his upper arms. The hut that he had been walking toward suddenly came into view and Booth stopped. The door stood open, calling him to enter. A voice from inside tore at his heart. A small, sad, scared voice sung out for help. Booth's heart began to race under his ribs. He entered the darken hut and was slapped in the face with a blast of freezing cold air. As Booth walked further into the hut he heard the growl of the black demon wolf.

"I know you're here," he called out, hoping his voice was steadier than how it sounded to his ears.

"You can't run from me," the wolf said. Booth saw through the gloom that the wolf had began to walk towards a backdoor. The agent followed. The door opened into a darken hall. The walls were streaked with blood and Booth shivered. He followed the hall and prayed that he found nothing at the end. A scream split the silence and Booth began to run. It was that scream again- the one that filled him with dread at night and haunted his days. Booth saw the door at the end of the hall slammed shut causing him to a slide to a halt. He reached out and twisted the door handle, but the door didn't open. Booth jammed his shoulder against the door. The wood groaned but held fast. Again, Booth hit the door with his shoulder. This time it gave way and he toppled he. Booth felt his stomach lurch and his throat tighten as he fought down the bile. Pale light from wall torches filled the room, giving Booth just enough to see the blood, the body parts. His suddenly shallow breathing echoed in his ears. "You did this." Booth's head snapped up and his eyes made contact with the black wolf that now stood across the room from him. "You killed her."

"Who? How?" Booth was confused. How could he have done something so…so horrid?

"It's your fault," the wolf said, and Booth sworn he heard laughter. "Step forward and claim your prize." Booth felt himself being drawn forward, his feet slipping on the blood.

"No," he pleaded.

"This is who you really are, Booth. A murderer." Booth fell to his knees- his hands down to help brake his fall. His fingers spread out over the sticky liquid and again Booth fought the bile rising in his throat. He shook his head violently from side to side. "Bask in the glory of what you've done." Booth looked from his blood-covered hands to the wolf.

"I didn't do this," he yelled out. "You're not real. This is just a nightmare." Booth felt his shoulders begin to shake.

"This is real, Booth," the wolf said. "And this is who you really are." A light flicked once above him and then the room was filled with a blinding brightness. Booth squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, and then slowly opened them.

"No," he said, falling backwards on his backside and trying to scoot away. Again his shoulders began to shake. "No," fell from his lips again. Before him was a concrete alter which had a body laid across it. The female remains were dressed in a white dress that was stained with blood. Protruding from the middle of the ribcage was a dagger with a jeweled handle.

"Stand," the wolf said. "Stand and step forward. See what you have done." Booth couldn't fight the urge to do as he was told. He slowly climbed to his feet and took a hesitated step toward the body, his own body shaking. His breath caught as his eyes took in the face.

"No," he said, shaking his head. The eyes of the corpse opened, and blue orbs stared up at him.

"You did this," the dead woman said. "You killed me."

"No, no, this isn't real." Booth stepped back as the woman sat up and swung her legs around, her bare feet touching the floor.

"But it will be, Booth, and my blood is on your hands." The woman stood from her deathbed and moved toward a frozen Booth. She reached up and touched his face with one of her ice-cold hands. "Remember," she whispered, leaning in toward him, her pale blue lips stopping millimeters from his mouth. "Remember that you killed me." Booth felt his shoulders shake, as the woman stood straight and turned from him.

"Welcome to Hell," the wolf said. The woman walked over to the black demon and ran her hands through his fur.

"No, wait." The woman turned back to Booth, but remained next to the wolf.

"It's no use, Booth," the wolf said. "I will have her. You will kill her." With that the wolf and the woman began to fade away from him. Again his shoulders began to shake.

"Bones," he called out as he sat up in his bed, sweat dripping from his brow. His heart thundered and his breaths came in short, fast pants. Booth licked his lips and then turned toward the woman in his bed. Cam stared at him with wide eyes. Booth realized his mistake and closed his eyes.

"What?"

Booth rubbed his face. "A dream, Cam, it was only a dream." He flopped back down and threw an arm over his eyes.

"Some dream to leave you all sweaty and breathing hard."

"A nightmare," he corrected.

"Want to talk about it?" Cam asked settling back down in bed. Booth shook his head. "Oh, come on, Booth, you wake up screaming out another woman's name after we have sex. I think I deserve to know what the nightmare was about." Booth uncovered his eyes and looked over at her.

"It was," he stopped. Did he want to share his inner demons with someone? With Cam? "It doesn't matter." He threw back the covers and got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" she asked his bare back as he reached for his clothes.

"Home," he said. "This was a mistake. We both know it." Booth pulled on his boxers and then jeans before turning back to the bed. "I'm sorry, Cam, I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," she answered, holding up a hand. "When we called it off, we knew there would be nights when we just needed the sex. You serviced me as much as I serviced you."

"I don't know if I like referring to it as serviced," Booth commented, pulling his shirt on.

"You know I'm right, Seeley. We might not be a full fledged couple, but we can't stay away from each other." She offered him a smile. "I'm here when you need me, and visa versa." Booth combed his fingers through his hair.

"I can't do this any more, Cam. I can't…" he let the sentence end there. "See ya." Booth turned from the bed and left the room. _Damn you, Bones,_ he cursed. _Planting ideas of sex in my head._ Booth closed Cam's apartment door behind him and then shook his head. Images of Brennan laying dead filled his mind. "I need a drink," he said aloud, and left the apartment building.


	5. Colder than Winter & Guardian's Warning

**A/N: Here it is, the long awaited next chapter to 'The Sinful Rose'. Okay, so many not long awaited, or even awaited, but here it is. A Big, Huge, Enormous, Mammoth, Colossal, Massive and Immense 'Thank you' to Goldy for not only beta'ing this chapter, but for also pointing out a few things to make it better. Thanks, Girl. Can't wait til you're back for good.**

**A/N#2: Okay, so this chapter gets a little...um...weird, but hang in there. So major action starts in Chapter Six.**

**UPDATE 20 Dec 2006: Thanks Ava for pointing out the double post in the first paragraph. I have no idea why FF is doing this to me.**

* * *

Special Agent Seeley Booth put down his beer bottle with a little more force than he had planned, sending a loud thump echoing through his apartment. It had been two days since he had seen anyone from the Jeffersonian, opting for the easy way out. He couldn't bring himself to face Cam and every time his mind drifted toward his partner, images of her cold, lifeless body returned to him. He knew he was a coward, knew that he had a job to do and that sooner or later he would have to return to work. Yet even that thought filled him with dread. He had even come to the point where he couldn't have silence without hearing Brennan's voice accusing him of killing her. His nights had become even more haunted and tortured since that night at Cam's apartment. Booth scrubbed his hands over his face. _What was I thinking?_ he asked himself. _How could I have fallen back into the same trap?_ He knew that he shouldn't have gone to her, but he was desperate for sleep and thought that maybe a warm body next to him would help. _Cut the bull_, he scolded himself. _I wanted sex and she was an easy lay._ Booth cringed at his own thoughts. _Stupid,_ he thought. _Stupid, stupid coward._ Booth grabbed his empty bottle and threw it across the room, shattering it against the opposite wall. Frustrated, he stood and began to pace. He had to figure out what was going on.

Booth jumped when his cellphone began to ring. He snatched it off the coffee table, flipped it open and barked, "Booth."

"Hello to you too," the voice of Deputy Director Sam Cullen said.

Booth closed his eyes. "Sorry, sir," he apologized.

"I'll over look it this time," Cullen said. "Some remains have been found that I think you'll be interested in."

"Let me guess, a Black Baccara was found near the body?"

"If that's the black rosebud, then yes." Booth ran a hand through his hair and blew out a heavy sigh, then reached for a pen as Cullen rattled off the location of the crime scene. "I'll leave informing Dr. Brennan up to you." With that, the deputy director hung up, leaving Booth alone with his own worried thoughts. He had to call Brennan, had to see her, work with her. Slowly he hit the correct speed dial button and lifted the phone to his ear. He listened as the phone rung once, then twice then three times. With each unanswered ring, Booth felt his heart sped up.

Finally he heard the line pick up and a very sleepy, "Brennan." Booth's eyes shot to the clock on his DVD player and he groaned silently. 1:15 AM. He hadn't realized that it was so late…er…early.

"We have another body," he said, jumping right into why he had called. He waited for an answer that didn't come. "Bones?"

"I haven't heard from you in two days," she said, hurt evident in her voice. Booth closed his eyes. He knew it was coming- the guilt, but he hadn't expected it from Brennan. "You haven't been by or returned any of my calls."

"I've been…_busy_," he lied.

"You haven't been into work," Brennan went on. "I talked to Cullen. What's going on Booth?"

"Can we just focus on the case, please Bones?" The silence from the other end was unnerving. "Can you be ready in twenty minutes?"

"Sure, Booth," she answered and then hung up the phone. Booth snapped his own phone shut with a grave sigh. He knew that Cam would be mad at him, but he had never thought that Brennan would be too. _Why shouldn't she be_? he questioned himself. _I let her in, told her about the nightmares and then disappeared for two days. I would be pissed too._ Booth tossed his phone onto his couch and then walked into his bedroom to wash up and change clothes.

Booth pulled up in front of Brennan's apartment building and wasn't surprised to see his partner standing just outside the front doors. Her stance told him she was mad. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, her weight mostly on one foot. Booth knew that when she got into the SUV he would get an earful. Brennan picked up her kit from the ground and made her way toward the waiting vehicle. She gave Booth a hello nod as she climbed in. Without a word, she settled her kit between her feet then reached over her shoulder for the seatbelt. The click of the seatbelt reverberated through the cab, but Brennan never spoke. Booth pinched his lips together, and then pulled the SUV away from the curb. They rode in silence for five minutes before Booth spoke. "I don't see why you're mad," he said. "It's so out of character for you."

"I'm mad," Brennan began, "because you've been acting weird, not sleeping and missing work, and now you won't answer your phone. I thought we were friends and you won't talk to me. Why shouldn't I be mad?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize that you would get so ticked about it."

"Don't BS me," she snapped. "You knew. You knew and you don't seem to care." Booth narrowed his eyes and gripped the steering wheel. Suddenly he pulled off the street into an empty parking lot. "What are you doing?" Booth put the SUV into park, and then turned toward his partner.

"You listen to me," he began in a low voice. "Don't you ever say I don't care, because I do."

"Then why haven't you been by? Why are you hiding?"

"I don't have to explain everything to you," he shot at her. "You're my partner, not my therapist." Brennan sat back from him, her eyes slightly wide with surprise. "Bones," he started.

"No," she said. "I understand. You don't want to talk to me because I'm not likely to pat your hand and tell you everything will be okay. I'm not likely to spew off some soft science nonsense designed to make you feel better about yourself. I understand completely, Booth."

"That's not what I meant," Booth almost yelled.

"Then what? Huh, Booth? What did you mean?"

"I just meant," he began and then fell silence. "Know what, Bones, just forget it."

"Fine," she huffed and turned from him and crossed her arms, signaling that she was done talking.

"Fine." Booth put the SUV into drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Fine," she mumbled under her breath, determined to get the last word.

"Agent Booth," an older man said, walking toward the pair with an out stretched hand.

"Agent McCathy," Booth replied shaking the offered hand. "This is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan," McCathy said.

"What do we have?" Booth asked.

"Male victim," McCathy started as he turned and began toward the area that was roped off in yellow. "Skull split open." Booth lifted the tape for Brennan to walk under it and then followed. Brennan walked over to the victim, knelt down and began to rattle off the specifics. Booth stood to the side, half listening and half searching the small group of people being held back. One woman caught his attention. She was an older woman with short silver hair. Her blue eyes reflected the spotlights that illuminated the area. Booth cocked his head slightly to one side and watched the woman closely. The woman offered him a shy smile and a small nod, as if saying that his assumptions were correct. Booth opened his mouth but closed it again when Brennan said his name.

"What?" he asked turning toward her.

"I said that I'm done and are you ready?" Booth looked back over at the woman but found that she was gone.

"Yeah," he said, bringing his eyes back to his partner. "I'm ready." He reached out to place a hand on her lower back as she walked by, but Brennan sidestepped his effort. With one more glance over his shoulder to where the woman had stood, he walked a step behind Brennan back to the SUV.

XxXxX

"It really is fascinating," Dr. Zack Addy said, looking over the newest remains.

"You do realize that there is no such thing as witchcraft, don't you, Zack?" Brennan said, picking her eyes up to his.

"How can you say that, Dr. Brennan, after all the places that you've studied?"

"True that in some places people believe in what they called witchcraft, but it's not more or less than the religions we have here in the US. If someone believes in something hard enough, then it becomes his or her truth. Take Booth, for example."

"Take me where?" the man in question asked, swiping his card and walking up the steps.

"Zack and I were just talking about witchcraft," Brennan said. "I was trying to make the point about how Catholicism and witchcraft are similar."

"I know you just didn't say that, Bones," he said.

"Think about it, Booth. Witchcraft is nothing more than a group of people, of so-called witches, that believe in a higher order of things called Goddesses and Gods that are in charge of our lives. By simply casting a spell, or by chanting, they feel that they can win over these entities and be blessed. Catholics, and really all Christian-based religions, believe in one God that is over the whole world. Everything was born and created by this one entity. You use prayer to try and win what you believe to be blessing. You have special chants that you do in order to attain those blessings."

"Witchcraft is nothing like my faith," Booth defended.

"I'm just saying," Brennan began but was cut off by Angela.

"Why were you talking about witchcraft to begin with?"

"I was telling Dr. Brennan about the Necropants they have on display in the Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft in west Iceland," Zack said.

"The whada?" Angela asked.

"Necropants," Zack repeated. "Some people believe that Necropants can be used in a ceremony to gain money."

"Hey, I'm with that," Angela said. "Where can I buy a pair?"

"I don't think you want them," Brennan said. "First you have to make a deal with a living male friend." Angela tossed a smile over to Booth who shook his head no.

"A deal for what?" the artist asked, turning back to Brennan.

"To dig up his grave after he's died a completely natural death."

"I'm beginning not to like this."

"Then," Zack picked up. "After your male friend is buried, you dig him up, skin him from the waist down and wear his skin as pants."

"Necropants," Brennan said.

"Gross," Angela said, bring her hand to her mouth.

"And while wearing the necropants," Zack contiuned, "the owner has to steal money from a poor widow and then draw a magical symbol on a piece of parchment. Then you would place the pants into a special 'pouch' and supposely the owner would then come into the possession of money."

"Wouldn't it be easier to get a job?" Angela asked.

"The things I learn," Booth mumbled under his breath, and then waved a folder in the air. "IDs on the first two victims, if any body is interested?" Once all the squints had settled, and Cam joined them, Booth began to read. "The first victim, Dracula, is David Ross Johnson, age twenty-five. Moved here just over a year ago from Alabama, the family is being notified. Victim two, Van Helsing, is Robert Mitchell Rowland, age twenty. Moved here from Tennessee six months ago. I have agents looking into any possible connections they might have had. What can you tell me about this guy?"

Brennan dropped her eyes to the remains. "Male, same injuries as the last, except, of course, he was killed by having his head spilt open." They all turned their attention to Hodgins.

"What?" he asked.

"Aren't you going to tell us what creature he was killed like?" Cam asked.

"You all never seemed interested before," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Spill it," Booth threatened.

"A Zombie."

"A Zombie?" everybody repeated.

"Yeah," Hodgins said standing. "The epidemic started originally in the southeastern United States. Some people believed it's because of high-level radiation brought back by the Explorer Venue probe although most people believe they came about through Voodoo."

"Voodoo?" Booth said, his eyes shifting to Brennan.

"Yep. The most effective way to kill a Zombie is to spilt open it's head and destroy the brain. I'm gonna guess that a chainsaw did that number."

Brennan glanced back at the wound and nodded. "He's right," she said pointing to the head.

"Of course I'm right," Hodgins said.

"What does our suspect get by killing his victims like vampires, werewolves and zombies?" Booth asked, looking around the small group of squints.

"That's your job," Cam said.

"Maybe our killer practices Voodoo," Zack suggested, earning him a glare from Booth.

"He's got a point," Cam said. "That could be why the black rosebud too. Voodoo, black magic."

"Taking in all three murders," Hodgins began, "I would suggest Hoodoo instead."

"Hoodoo?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, it's kinda like Voodoo, but where Voodoo has a strong religious theme to it, Hoodoo doesn't. It's related to witchcraft and was brought to America by West Africans. Hoodoo and Voodoo are often mistaken for one another. Some believe that the terms may have a common etymology, it's just when the religious persecution and suppression of the Voodoo religion in America, 'hoodoo' is what remains, but they are different things. We also get mojo from Hoodoo."

"You know, Hodgins, you remind me of the babe." The entomologist looked over at the agent with his brows drawn together.

"What babe?" he asked.

"The babe with the power, of course."

"What power?"

"The power of hoodoo," Booth answered with a smile.

"Hoodoo?"

"You do."

"Do what?" Hodgins asked.

"Remind me of the babe."

"What babe?"

"Okay, enough about Voodoo and Hoodoo and mojo and bad old movie jokes," Angela pleaded. Booth and Hodgins both chuckled, but then Booth's eyes scanned over Brennan's face.

"Ange is right," he said, returning to a more serious work mode. "We have a murder to solve."

"I'm just saying, man," Hodgins began. "That maybe we're looking for someone who's big on Hoodoo."

"I agree with Hodgins," Cam said. "I think we should leak the information. See what it turns up."

"We're not the police," Brennan pointed out.

"No, but he is." Cam jabbed a thumb toward Booth.

"I think that releasing such ridiculous information would just cause panic," Brennan countered. "Not to mention if it got back that the Jeffersonian believed such rubbish, then we could put our creditability at risk."

"Nobody will ever know," Cam said. "But somebody might step forward with information that we can use, like someone who practices Hoodoo who maybe seems out of it lately. You know, who's suddenly started ranting about something they normally don't care about."

"Yes, but still," Brennan started, causing the squints to look from Cam to Brennan like a tennis match. "What could possibly be gain by it? I think we need to stay with the evidence. We need to finish up on our third victim, study the facts and see where they lead us."

"And we will do that," Cam said. "But the information needs to be released. Somebody out there knows something, and anything they know is more than what you do."

"Booth," Brennan almost whined, looking over at the agent. "Tell Dr. Saroyan that it's too early to jump to conclusions. That we need more evidence and that leaking unfounded information would just cause panic. All eyes went to the agent, who looked from one doctor to the other.

"Actually, Bones," he said, "I, umm, I think I agree with Cam on this." Angela, Hodgins and Zack all drew in a surprised gasp of air and looked over at Brennan. "After all," he quickly continued, trying to ignore the shocked breaths and Brennan's wide eyes. "We are running short on leads, and maybe somebody will come forward. It's not like we're going to hold a press conference or anything. We're gonna leak the information. Nobody will know where it came from."

"Booth, how can you say that?"

"Oh, come off it, Bones. How is this different from when you threatened to leak Cleo Eller's name?"

'This is totally different," she defended, although her cheeks were already turning a light shade of pink.

"How?" Booth asked- his arms crossed over his chest.

"Because," Brennan began, "back then our partnership was new."

"You mean, it's okay to leak information if it's used to blackmail me?" he threw at her.

"That's not what I said," Brennan growled, slamming a hand down on the metal table.

"But that's what you meant, right? That leaking information is fine as long as it's to your benefit."

Brennan pinched her lips together. "That was a long time ago, Booth. We've both matured since that first case. We've both seen the errors of our ways. All I'm saying now, is that if we leak the information, we could do more damage than good."

"We're gonna leak it," Booth said, his voice held finality, his eyes were stern and cold, as if daring her to defy him.

"You still think too much like a scientist, Dr. Brennan," Cam told her. "When you need to think like a cop." She turned toward Booth and said, "I'll go make a few phone calls." With that, she almost skipped down the steps and across the lab. The squints all turned toward Booth and waited.

"Nothing personal, Bones," he said, lifting one shoulder in a slight shrug.

"I live for these weird, awkward moments," Hodgins whispered to Angela only to be awarded with a sharp jab in the ribs by her elbow.

"Zack?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?" the young doctor answered stepping forward.

"Can you finish up with the remains?"

"Of course." Brennan nodded and then pushed by the agent who along with the squints watched her enter her office and then come with her winter coat.

"Where are you going, Bren?" Angela called out, as the doctor slipped on her coat and the flipped her hair out from the collar.

Brennan crossed the lab and then tossed back, "Shopping," as the sliding doors closed behind her.

"Uh-oh," Angela said, and Booth, Hodgins and Zack all turned to look at her.

"What's wrong, Angela?" Hodgins asked.

"I've only known Brennan to go shopping by her own accord twice," she said. "And let's just say she was pissed off and had nothing to hit." She turned worried eyes toward Booth who sighed, but started down the steps.

"Bones," he called out as he stepped out of the elevator and into the parking garage. "Bones." He started to trot after his partner. "Listen to me," he begged. He reached out for her arm, and as his fingers closed around it, Brennan turned and landed a punch across his right cheek. "What the hell? What was that for?"

"Being a jerk," Brennan said. "You're lucky I don't hit you again for being a dick."

"What I do?" he asked, touching his face.

"How could you agree with her?" Brennan demanded.

"Cam had a good idea."

"No, she didn't and you know that. Releasing that information is going to backfire and you know that too."

"Bones, listen, sometimes you have to give a little to get a little. If the murderer thinks that we're clueless then he might contact us. You know, insert himself into the investigation."

"This isn't how we work," Brennan pointed out. "We never go to the press. We work with too many sensitive cases to involve them." Brennan's eyes darted from side to side and then she brought them back up to his. "It's because of Cam," she accused.

"What?"

"Of course, you don't want to make her mad, I should have seen it. You figured that if I was mad at your recent behavior than Cam would be too. So you decided to suck up to her, and go with her idea."

"Bones, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?" Brennan demanded. "Because you know as good as I do that her idea sucked." Booth ran a hand through his hair and pinched the back of his neck.

"Bones, listen to me."

"I'm tired of listening, Booth," Brennan said. "I hope you like your new partner."

"What?"

"Cam… because I don't want to work with…this new you." Brennan turned from a shocked Booth and headed to her car. Without a glance back, she got in, started the engine and drove off.

"She's colder than winter towards you," a voice said, causing Booth to turn around.

"Excuse me? You." Before him was the woman from the last crime scene. Her blue eyes scanned over Booth and then met his own gaze.

"You must have done something really bad to make Dr. Brennan mad enough to hit you," the woman said.

"I've got work to do," he said, not wanting to discuss anything with this woman.

"Yes, you do," she said. "You must prepare for a fight. Don't look so surprised, Agent Booth. You know who I am."

"No, it's not possible," he said with a shake of his head.

"A lot of things are possible, Seeley," the woman said. "Even Guardians."

"Guardians?" Booth questioned.

"I was sent to help you in your fight, but I can't if you don't believe."

"Listen, lady, I don't know who you are, but I've got to go."

"Seeley, you have to listen to me. The evilness that's controlling your nightmares is watching you. If you don't begin to understand them and fight, then the vision your last one held, Dr. Brennan's dead body, will come to pass. Her blood will be on your hands."

"That's ridiculous," Booth scoffed. "I would never hurt Bones."

"Really?" the woman questioned. "Then what just happen between the two of you? Why is your partnership crumbling around you?" Booth dropped his eyes and thought.

"If you're right," he started, "then how do I fight?"

"First, you must realize where your loyalties lay. He will use your divided heart against you, he already has. The three victims he's left you are tearing your partnership in two. Soon, they will all look at you through tarnished eyes, because their leader's blood will trickle down your arms."

"But I would never hurt Bones," he said again.

"You say that now," the woman said. "But when the time comes what will you do?"

"How do I catch the killer?" he asked. "Why is he controlling my nightmares? How is he doing it?"

"It's called dream manipulation," she explained. "It's when someone in a dream state can leave their bodies and travel into someone else's dreams. Normally, they don't really do anything, but there are people who can change the dream as they're in it. It's very difficult, and it takes a lot of power and practice. You're looking for someone who is powerful in witchcraft, but who may be ostracized by others who practice it. He's got outlandish views of life and since he's chosen you, he's had a run in with either you or Brennan or both. This is his revenge. He's slowly making you question your own thoughts and beliefs. You don't know who to trust, and you're losing everybody who's close to you."

"Whoa," Booth finally said. "If all this is true, and I'm not saying it is, then how do you know so much?"

"Like I've said, Seeley, I'm your Guardian. Now, go home and pray, because as of right now, Brennan will die."

"No," Booth said. "I won't let it happen."

"Seeley, my dear, you don't have a choice." With that, the woman was gone. Booth turned in a small circle, but found that he was alone. The woman's warning echoed in his mind. _Brennan will die._

* * *

_This is the last update for this story until after Christmas. Branwyn and I wish each and every one of you Happy Holidays. And no matter what way you celebrate, we hope that you share it with those you love._

_The voodoo/hoodoo joke is from a Cary Grant film called 'The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer'. Again, thanks Goldy for the joke idea._

_The Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft in west Iceland is a real place according to my research, and they do have a pair of necropants on display._

_**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**_


	6. Clues, Worry and Choices

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. A big thank you to Goldy for beta'ing it. ::big hug:: Hope you all like it.**

* * *

_Chapter Six:_

_Clues, Worry and Choices_

_Three days later…_

Special Agent Seeley Booth sat at his desk staring at the pages before him. The third victim had been identified as Justin Keith Truheart from Kentucky, and he had only lived in DC for four months. So far, the FBI couldn't find anything to link the three victims. Booth blew out an aggravated breath and slapped one hand down on his desk, the sting assuring him that he was still alive--still could feel something other than fear. His brain was so mingled from lack of sleep that the facts and faces from the cases were starting to run together, leaving him in a state of semi-confusion. All Booth wanted to do was to catch the bastard that was making his life a living hell, figure out how to get Brennan to talk to him again, and sleep for two solid weeks. He pushed back from his desk and leant back in his chair, his arms stretched up over his head. After a moment in this position, Booth scrubbed his hands over his face. A hurried knock on his door made him jump slightly as he looked up. He waved Cam in and waited for her to close the door. "What are you doing here so late?" he asked.

"Have you talked to Dr. Brennan lately?"

Booth drew his brows together. "You know Bones hasn't talked to me in two days."

"So you don't know where she's at?"

"No, why should I?" he asked, his heart suddenly sinking in his chest.

"Because nobody has been able to get in touch with her all day. Angela wanted to go over to her apartment, but I thought I should tell you first." She hadn't even finished the sentence before Booth was standing and reaching for his coat.

"Go back to the lab," he ordered, "incase she comes by." He then disappeared out the door. Booth ran down the hall and hit the button for the elevator, and then decided it was taking to long. He pushed open the door for the steps and flew down them. He apologized to a fellow agent when he ran into him coming out the bottom door, but he didn't stop. Booth raced to his SUV and as he started the engine, he pulled his cellphone out and dialed Brennan's number. He cursed under his breath when the voice mailbox picked up. "Where the hell are ya Bones?" he growled throwing his phone onto the dash and then pulled from the parking lot.

The distance to Brennan's apartment blurred into a steady line of passed cars, ignored red lights and narrowly missed wrecks. Booth didn't bother to find a parking spot-- instead he pulled to a stop close to the front doors, then quickly shut off his car, pulled the key out and threw open the door. In one swift movement, he jumped out of the SUV, slammed shut the door and ran into the building. Taking the steps two by two, he busted onto the second floor moments later. "Bones," he called out as he skidded to a stop in front of her door. "Bones," he called again, as he beat his fist hard against the wood. "Brennan? Open the door. Bones!" Again, he beat his fist loudly against the door. "Open the God damn door," he shouted and then kicked at the door in defeat.

"Excuse me?" Booth jerked his head to the right at the words. Standing at the open door of apartment 1B was an old woman with her white hair rolled tightly on curlers. Her light pink housecoat hung down to bony ankles and her feet were clad in worn slippers. "You're looking for Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes," Booth said, turning to face her, forcing his best smile. "Have you seen her?"

The woman eyed the agent speciously as she pulled a crumbled tissue from her pocket and dapped at her slightly red nose. "Not today," she finally said. "But last night."

"Do you know if she's in there?" he asked, pointing to Brennan's closed door.

"Oh no," the woman said. "Last night I heard some strange noises, like things crashing. Very unusual for her, you know? So I decided to make sure everything was okay."

"And were they?"

"I'm not sure," the woman said. "I knocked on the door and after a few seconds she answered, but she didn't open the door all the way. Dr. Brennan normally steps out to chat for a few minutes and to say hello to Brucie."

"Brucie?" Booth asked.

"My cat. Anyhow, she just kinda poked her head out and apologized for the noises. Said that she was getting ready to go a trip and knocked one of her display shelves over."

"Did she say where she was going?" Booth demanded, his already sunken heart sinking lower.

The old woman shook her head. "No, but she did say who she would be with should someone come by asking."

"Who?"

"Kenton," the woman declared. "Jamie Kenton." Booth's breath caught in his throat, the world closed in on him and squeezed his lungs until they burned. "Something's wrong, isn't there?" Booth didn't answer, instead, he threw himself at Brennan's closed door, his shoulder hitting with a loud thump. Three more times and the lock gave, and Booth stumbled once before catching himself. Inside he found the apartment wrecked. His stomach flip-flopped as he reached for his cell phone to call for backup.

XxXxX

"I don't understand," Cam said as she and the other squints watched Booth pace to and fro. "Who's Kenton? And why are we worried that she's with him?"

"Rogue agent," Hodgins told her. "Big conspiracy."

"Kenton kidnapped Brennan last year," Angela explained.

"He also blew up Booth with a refrigerator," Zack tossed in.

"Yeah, that too," Angela agreed. "Kenton tied Brennan up in a warehouse, where he was going to kill her."

"Feed her to a pack of hungry dogs," Hodgins bluntly finished, then rubbed at his arm where Angela had hit him.

"Shh," the artist said, with a curt nod toward the still pacing Booth.

"Sorry."

"So, let me get this right," Cam began. "This Kenton fellow, an FBI agent, blew Booth up, kidnapped Dr. Brennan and then tried to kill her. How did she get away?"

"It doesn't matter," Booth suddenly said, causing all sets of eyes to turn toward him. "Bones isn't with Kenton."

"But I thought you said…?" Cam started but was interrupted by Booth.

"Kenton is just a code," he told her. "Code for kidnapped."

"So if not Kenton, then who?" Cam asked.

Booth shook his head. "I don't know yet." He scrubbed his hands over his drawn face. "I'm going back to the apartment, talk with people there. See if anybody else saw anything. I'll have all the evidence sent over here for you all to look over, along with a copy of the security tape." Angela, Hodgins and Zack all nodded and Booth pushed through the small group.

"Booth," Cam called after him, before she moved to follow. "Booth."

"I don't have time to talk," he said as she caught up with him. Cam reached out and grabbed his arm, but Booth simply shook her off. "Cam, please, I don't have time…"

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "Just remember that I'm here for you." Booth nodded, barely recognizing her words as he continued on his way out the labs.

XxXxX

Angela stood over her desk, the pictures of the crime scene spread out before her. Her eyes scanned each photo taking in every detail of the horrid mess she saw. Her normally smooth forehead was creased in worried thought, and she chewed on her bottom lip.

"Earth to Angela." The artist jumped and whipped her head to the side. Hodgins stood staring at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Angela lied with a shake of her head, turning back to the pictures. "Just going over the photos from Brennan's apartment."

"I can see that," Hodgins pointed out, as he leaned back against her desk--arms crossed over his chest. "But are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered absently, reaching out and picking up a picture.

"Ange, I know that you and Brennan are close," Hodgins began only to have Angela quickly gather the photos.

"Yeah, listen, Hodgins I've got to go." And with that, the artist left her office. Hodgins watched her leave and then followed suit, shutting the door behind him.

XxXxX

"Please tell me you have something," Booth begged as he walked back into the Medico-Legal Labs later that day.

"They're in the Angelator room," Zack said, looking up from the three files of their victims.

"Thanks, Doc Addy," Booth tossed at the young doctor before heading off to find the rest of the squints.

"That can't be right," he heard Cam say as he entered the slightly darkened room.

"What can't be?" Booth asked, joining the three around the center machine. He was aware of the worried glances they exchanged, before Angela cleared her throat.

"Um, I programmed in the pictures the FBI sent over," she began. "Something just didn't seem right."

"What did you find, Angela?" The artist hit a series of buttons and Brennan's apartment snapped into view.

"I used the photos and descriptions to figure out where the fight started and ended. Brennan's neighbor..."

"Robin Smith," Booth offered.

"Ms. Smith told you that Brennan came to the door. That's when she mentioned Kenton."

"I know all of this, Angela," Booth snapped. "What don't I know?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyhow, according to my calculations, Booth, Bren was winning."

"What?"

"I found some marks made by a head crashing into the wall and a few made by a fist, using the angles and heights of each mark, along with some other marks I won't bore you with, I was able to determine that Brennan was winning the fight. Or at least keeping thing fair."

"Then what happened?" Booth asked, looking from one to another. "What made Bones walk out of her apartment building apparently under her own power? In the tapes, there was no gun."

"Which explains why Brennan fought," Hodgins said. "She wouldn't have done that if somebody was pointing a gun at her." Booth ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tightening his grip at the back of his head--digging his nails into his scalp.

"Why would Bones just leave?" he asked.

"But she didn't," Zack said from the doorway.

"What do you mean?" Cam asked.

"I looked over the tapes that Booth had sent over, and I might have found something." Booth followed Zack closely as the young man lead the team through the labs. Zack motioned for Booth to take the seat in front of the computer, and the agent didn't ask questions. "We know that Dr. Brennan left us one clue," he began. "Telling her neighbor about Kenton, however, I think she left us another clue."

"Wouldn't the FBI have caught it?" Cam asked. "Wouldn't Booth?"

"I didn't watch the whole tape," the agent in questioned confessed.

"And the other agents," Zack began, "don't know Dr. Brennan, but for somebody who does, say like Booth…" he let his voice trail off as he hit the play button. They each watched closely as Brennan and a hooded man entered the elevator. Brennan looked calm, if only a slight bit nervous. The man said something, and Brennan nodded, then reached out and hit the correct button. Brennan stood tall beside him, hands hanging loosely by her sides. Suddenly, she lifted her eyes up to where the camera was hidden then lifted one hand to scratch at the corner of her mouth. Booth tilted his head to one side and studied the image. _Her hand_, he thought.

"There," he said, touching the screen. "She's making the letter 'u'."

"I think you're over analyzing, Booth," Cam said, noticing that Zack stood with a smug look.

"No," Booth said, standing from the chair and turning to face the squints. "I taught her that." He pushed the chair out of his way and began to pace, thoughts running through his mind. "I have a cousin who signs," he told them. "Bones found out I knew, and asked me to teach her. But why that letter?" _Why? What are you trying to tell me?_

"Dr. Brennan would have known you would see the tape," Zack said.

Booth stopped in his tracks and snapped his fingers. "That's it, Zack," he said. "She knew I would see the tape. It's not the letter I need to worry about but the word--you, or rather _me_. She's telling us that whoever has her wants me."

"It's just a stretch," Cam pointed out. "Maybe she was just getting an itch."

"No," Angela piped in. "The way she did that was out of character. That's why Zack caught it."

"I just didn't quite understand what she was trying to tell us," the young doctor said.

"I've been looking at this all wrong," Booth said, mostly to himself.

"What do you mean?" Hodgins asked.

"We've been looking at what our victims have in common with each other," Booth told them. "I need to look for what the victims have in common with me instead."

"Where are you going?" Angela asked, as Booth pushed by them.

"My office," he tossed over his shoulder. "Call me if you find out anything else."

XxXxX

Booth looked up at the blood red sky. The sun hung low, casting long legged shadows across the ground. Dropping his head, Booth licked his tongue over his lips. He knew what was coming--knew that the black monster that haunted his nights would be coming soon. His only hope was that his Guardian would come too. He tilted his head to the left and strained his ears to listen. A faint sound--almost like a voice floated on the chilled wind caught his attention. Booth drew his brows together in concentration and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. When he had determined the direction of the voice,he began to walk. The dirt under his feet became dry and dusty, and the shifting of his shoes caused a cloud to form around him. Booth coughed and waved a hand in front of his face to clear the air, but nothing helped. Suddenly he stopped and listened. The voice on the wind was calling his name, and he felt his heart speed up. _Bones._ "Bones," he cried out and willed his feet to carry him through the now near blinding dust cloud. "Bones?" The voice called out to him again and Booth pressed on.

"I need help," the voice called. "Booth, I need help."

"I'm comin', Bones," he answered. Ahead of him, the figure of a woman began to form. "Hold on, Bones." After what felt like eternity, Brennan's features grew sharp, and soon Booth found himself close enough to smell the iron odor of blood. "Bones!"

"You did it, Booth," she told him and the dust cloud fell away, leaving them standing in the middle of nothingness. "You did it." Booth's breath caught in his throat. Standing only an arms length from him was Brennan, in the same white, blood streaked dress from nights before.

"No," Booth denied with a shake of his head.

"Why did you kill me?" Brennan asked.

"I didn't," he began, stepping forward, his hands reaching out for her, but he stopped. In his right hand was the jeweled handled dagger that he had seen protruding from her body in earlier nightmares. He dropped the weapon with a startled cry and then looked up with panicked-laced eyes. "I didn't…" he began but the sentence died on his lips. Brennan's cerulean eyes stared at him with sadness and years of built up grief. Booth felt his heart split apart and his soul ache. He had seen that look in her eyes before, but it was never meant for him. It had always been when she was hurting because of her family and would turn to him for help, but now the look was for him alone.

"Why?" she asked again, her voice like a feather on the wind. Her eyes plead with him.

"I didn't, Bones," he said, trying to convince her as well as himself. "I couldn't, you know that."

"You had to choose," she told him. "You knew you would have to choose. Why did you choose me to die?"

"I didn't," he snapped. "Stop saying that I killed you. You know I would never hurt you. You're my partner." _In so many ways_, he finished to himself.

"Then how come your loyalties are split?" There it was again, that word- loyalties.

"I don't know what you mean," Booth said.

"Don't you, Seeley?" Brennan asked, the sound of his given name sounding cold and dead coming from her blue lips.

"Tell me," he begged. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" Brennan said again, then turned and began to walk away from him.

"Bones, wait. Don't go." Booth started to follow, but the black wolf appeared in his way.

"How does it feel?" the wolf asked. "How does it feel to know you're going to have to choose?"

"But I'm not," Booth said.

"Oh really?" the wolf asked, laughter evidence in his voice. "We shall see." The monster threw back his head and let go with a hellish howl. Booth sat up with a jerk, sending his empty coffee cup to the ground. His office was quiet and he quickly realized that he must have fallen asleep. A knock on his door started him more, and he snapped his head up. Angela stood on the other side of the glass with wide eyes and a worried expression.

Booth waved her in and then asked, "Did you hear something about Bones?"

"No," she answered and then pulled a bouquet of red roses from behind her back.

Booth's face fell as he stood up. "You received flowers?"

"No," Angela said with a shake of her head. Booth drew his brows together. "We found them in Cam's office," she told him. "But no Cam." Booth sat down heavily in his desk chair. "What are we going to do, Booth?' The agent looked up with worried eyes and was met with Angela's anxious look.

"I'm not sure, Angela. Was there a note?" Angela nodded and stepped forward holding out an evidence bag.

Booth took it from her and read a loud, "Roses are red. Blood is too. You better watch out, because I'm after you."

"Flip it over," Angela said. Booth did as he was instructed and gasped. Written in perfect print was _Your life for hers._ _Choose_. The agent swallowed down the bile the fought to come up.

"It's begun," he whispered to himself.

* * *

_:Insert evil laugh:_


	7. Torture and a Messenger

**A/N: There's a lot packed into this chapter, so hang on tight. A big shout out to Goldy for beta'ing this chapter for me. And since she's running on a lack of sleep, any spelling mistakes are hers. J/K, jeez. They're mine. Which will teach me not to get a tired Goldy to beta. Anyhow, on with the story.**

* * *

Torture. Agony. Hell. The words floated around Seeley Booth's mind like a swarm of bees and each one tore at his soul. He sat on the couch in his partner's empty office and stared at the floor with a blank look. Booth knew the time was coming, the time where he would have to choose, and not only his life for Cam's. He sniffed and cursed himself for showing weakness, for having to fight so hard to keep the tears a bay. Seeing that note suddenly made the wolf's warning clear. He was going to have to give up his life for another, but what shredded his heart was the fact that he would have to choose Cam or Brennan. Knowing that he had to give up his life was hard enough. Knowing that his son would grow up without a father, pulled at the tears in his eyes even more. However, knowing that he held in his hands the lives of two other people--of two women he cared for, made his heart almost stop beating. One of them wouldn't be coming back--someone had to die. _Damn it,_ he cursed. Booth leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees; he clasped his hands and dropped his head. He needed God's mercy. _I need help,_ he sent up. _I can't do this. I shouldn't have to._

"Poor guy," Hodgins said to his companions and both Angela and Zack nodded their agreement.

"I hate seeing him like this," Angela said. "He's so…"

"Miserable," Zack offered.

"Yeah." The three stood together and watched the FBI agent struggle with his thoughts. Suddenly Angela uncrossed her arms and started off toward the office.

"Where're you going?" Hodgins asked.

"I can't stand it anymore," she tossed back at him. "He needs a friend." Angela entered the office and walked slowly to where Booth sat. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she lowered herself to the couch--a sign to show him that she was there for him.

"I don't know what to do, Angela," he said softly, his head remaining down and his eyes closed.

"You're doing your best, Booth," the artist said, her arm sliding around his shoulders. "Brennan knows that," and then as an after thought she added, "and so does Cam." Booth shook his head. Angela could see his lips were pinched together. "You're going to get them back, Booth."

"They trusted me," he said, his voce still soft. "They both trusted me to keep them safe. She might have hated me now, but Temperance trusted me." His voice cracked as he spoke her name and Angela tightened her hold him.

"Tempe didn't hate you," she told him, her voice strong with conviction. "Do you hear me, Seeley Booth? She didn't hate you. Mad at you, yes, but hate, no." She felt his shoulders begin to shake and saw the first tear slide down his cheek. Without a word, she pulled him into an embrace and held him as the tears finally won their battle.

"Sorry," he finally said with a sniffle, as he pulled away and wiped at his eyes.

"Won't leave this room," Angela assured him.

"What am I gonna do?" he asked.

"It's what _we're_ gonna do," Hodgins said, placing his hand on the agent's shoulder.

"We're a team," Zack began, touching his other shoulder. Booth glanced over at Angela who smiled at him and nodded.

"A team," she agreed. Booth nodded his on agreement and then stood, feeling the urge to pace--to move.

"There has to be something," he said. "Something we're missing."

"We've been over everything," Hodgins told him.

"Not everything." The room quieted and they all waited for Booth to explain. The agent walked to the windows and stared out over the darkened world. He clasped his hands behind his back and drew in a shaky breath. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Silently, he talked to God, asking for his help once again. Finally, he opened his brown orbs and returned his gaze to the world outside. Booth opened his mouth to speak, and then promptly closed it. Again, he took in an unsteady breath—blowing it as a heavy sigh. He knew that the squints were waiting for him to explain himself. "About a week and a half ago," he started…

"Let me get this straight," Angela said when Booth finished his story. "You've been having nightmares about Brennan being murdered for almost two weeks and you haven't said anything?" Booth gave a sad nod. "You idiot," she shouted, standing from the couch. "You should have told her."

"I couldn't," Booth defended.

"And why not?" the artist demanded.

"Because," Booth began, and then lowered his voice, "because I'm the one that kills her." He looked up at Angela, then to Hodgins and Zack. "I kill her," he said again. The room was quiet—each person trying to understand Booth's confession.

"Dude," Hodgins said, breaking the silence. "It's just a dream."

"It's more than that," Booth explained. "It's like…it's like a vision." He pleaded with his companions to believe him. "Listen, I already feel like I'm going crazy," he said. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two weeks. My mind feels like jell-o."

"What else can you tell us about these…_visions_?" Hodgins questioned.

"I don't know," Booth said with a shrug. "There's this...wolf that talks to me."

"Wolves are thought of as guardians," Zack pointed out. "He could be guarding something."

"The gates of Hell," Booth mumbled. "Listen, we need to focus on the facts," he said, sounding a lot like Brennan. "We need to look over the cases again. There has to be something. I'll go back to my office and gather my notes," he started as he walked pasted Angela. "I'll bring them back here."

"Isn't that against protocol?" Hodgins asked. "After all, we're not FBI or your partner."

"Protocol be damned," Booth called back as he crossed the lab.

Booth threw open his office door and quickly began to gather his notes on the recent case. He piled folder after folder in his arms, as his mind raced. _It's my fault she's gone,_ he accused himself. _I should have protected her better._ "Damn it," he said, dropping the load of folders back to the desk and sinking into his chair. He felt defeated; like a loser. He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face and then slammed his fists onto his desk, making items jump.

"Beating up your desk won't solve anything," a voice said. Booth snapped his head up and met the eyes of Guardian. "Don't look so surprised," she said.

"How can I do this?" he asked, too tired to argue, much less care how she got in. The woman looked at the agent with cerulean eyes filled with pity.

"I know this is hard for you…"

"Hard?" Booth interrupted, standing suddenly, sending his chair toppling over backwards. "Hard?" he questioned again. "This bastard has my partner," he spat out. "He has two of my friends and he intends to make me choose between them. Either way, someone I care about is going to die. Hell, I'm gonna die." Booth slapped one hand against his chest to emphasize his point. He was furious with his situation--with himself.

"Do you really believe that?" Guardian asked.

"Why shouldn't I?" he demanded. "Everything points to me killing Bones. Everything. And I can't…" Booth knew that he was almost yelling, but he didn't care. He had come to grips with his own death once before, years before there was a time when after weeks of torture he had begged God to take him. He had decided to die, was comfortable with his choice and had lain down and waited for his last breath. Now, just when his life was good_, okay, maybe not good_,he thought. _But at least better than back then._ Then he didn't have a son. Then he didn't have…her. Booth blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. "I can't do this," he said, his voice soft and tired. "I'm going crazy, Guardian. No man should be faced with this choice. My life for another, and no matter what, someone will die."

"Have faith, Seeley," she told him. "You must determine where your loyalties lay."

"Stop saying that. I know where they lay, everybody does."

"Really?" The woman took a step into the office. "Do they, Seeley?" She lifted her hand and moved it in a circle. "Do you?" Booth felt his body go tingly, and his legs began to tremble. His mind became blurry, and before Booth could respond, his world went black.

The sound of sobs pulled his lids open again, and the bright sun blinded his dilated pupils. Booth threw a hand up to shield his eyes, and tried to examine his surroundings. Again, he heard sobs and gained his bearings. With heavy feet, he moved toward the sound and the sight he found stopped his heart. Angela stood beside a casket, dressed in a black dress, and her shoulders shook with her gentle crying. With an unsteady hand, she reached out and placed a black rose atop the coffin. Booth watched as Hodgins came to stand beside her dressed in a rare suit. He slid his arm around her waist, but didn't say anything. Finally, Angela spoke, "I can't believe she's gone."

"I know, Ange," Hodgins said.

"Brenn was one of my best friends," the artist said and Booth's heart stopped.

"No," he whispered.

"She was a good friend," Hodgins agreed. "It's gonna be strange not having her around."

"And Cam," Angela reminded him. "For all her faults, Cam wasn't too bad." Booth watched in confusion. _How could they both be dead?_ "It's all Booth's fault," she accused.

"Now you can't blame him. He's got a son to think of."

"But," Angela started and then sniffed. "But he could have saved her, one of them."

"How does it feel?" Booth jumped and spun around toward the voice. Brennan stood before him, white dress blowing gently in the breeze.

"But you're…" he glanced over his shoulder at the casket and the back.

"Dead?" she offered. "Yes, thanks to you." Booth couldn't find his voice, couldn't think of what to say if he had. "You made your choice, Booth. And you chose yourself over both Cam and I."

"I wouldn't do that," Booth tried to reason.

"I don't blame you, really," she went on. "It's not in our nature to give up our lives for someone else."

"But I will," he plead.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Look." Booth turned his glaze when Brennan had pointed and saw that Angela and Hodgins had moved away. Standing off to the side was him, dressed in his best black suit. Angela looked at him and shook her head.

"Angela," he heard his vision self say, but the artist only dropped her head and began to walk faster. "Hodgins…"

"My blood," Brennan said, pulling Booth's attention from the scene. "Is on your hands." The anthropologist held out the dagger with the jeweled handle. "Take it," she instructed. Booth looked at the blade in horror.

"I can't," he started.

"Take it," she said again, and Booth slowly reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cold grip. The dagger felt heavy, but well balanced in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, before picking his eyes up to meet Brennan's. "Now kill me."

"I can't," he said, tears already running down his face.

"You don't have a choice anymore," Brennan said. "You've made your decision."

"Bones," he began. "Temperance, I can't."

"We understand, Booth," she told him. "Dr. Saroyan and I, we both know you love your son more than anything."

"No," he said through his tears. "I can't live with the guilt."

"You've killed before," she pointed out.

"Never someone I've cared about," he snapped. "And I won't do it now. I'll find you."

"Even if you do, you can only save one of us. You have a past with Cam," she said.

"That doesn't take away what I have with you."

Brennan shook her head and stepped forward. "You've made your choice," she said, reaching out and touching his face. "Now make it final." With that, she reached down, wrapped her hand around his and brought the dagger up. "My blood is on your hands," she said again, and pulled the dagger to her. Booth felt the blade met her flesh and then her skin give way. The feel of the dagger plugging into her chest made his stomach flip. Brennan's eyes grew wide, but she never broke contact with Booth.

"No," he whispered, his breath washing over her. Booth let go of the knife and lowered Brennan to the ground. "Bones," he said. "Bones, come on, talk to me." Booth cradled her head and watched the blood stain grow on her chest. "No," he said again. He held her until he felt the life leave her body. Tears fell from his eyes and slide down her face. "Oh, God, Temperance, no." Booth eyes flew open and he found himself on his stomach on his office floor. He quickly pushed himself to his knees and shook his head. A quick check of his hands showed no sign of blood and a scan of his office showed no sign of Guardian. Booth thought back to his nightmare—to him killing Brennan and then reached out, and pulled his trashcan near as the remains of his last meal made its reappearance.

"You look like crap," Hodgins pointed out as Booth strolled up to the table the scientist sat at.

"Way to state the obvious, Sherlock," the agent remarked dropping a stack of folders on the metal table. "Okay people," he said, raising his voice as Zack and Angela made their way to him. "This is everything I have on this case. Interviews, forensic reports, crime scene photos, everything."

"We took the opportunity while you were gone to gather all our findings as well," Hodgins told him.

"Good, lets get to it then." Each member of the team pulled a chair near and grabbed a folder.

"What are we looking for?" Zack asked.

"Anything out of the ordinary," Booth explained.

"You said before," Angela began, "that we need to look at what the victims have in common with you. Maybe you should tell us some things we should keep an eye out for." Booth picked up his eyes from the folder and licked his lips. He didn't want to share his past with the squints, but knew that it could help.

"I'm not sure," Booth answered with a shake of his head.

"Well, start with your Army years," Hodgins suggested.

"I was a Sniper, you don't need to know anymore." Hodgins and Angela glanced over at each other with a knowing look and then went back to their folders.

"This is useless," Hodgins said, throwing his notepad to the table. "My eyes are starting to go cross."

"Agreed," Booth said, rubbing the back of his neck. He rolled his head around and then asked, "Where's Angela?"

"In with the Angelator," Zack told him. The agent stood and stretched his arms up over his head.

"Hey, Booth, I think I found something," Angela called. Booth, Hodgins and Zack quickly followed the artist into the darkened room.

"Please tell me it's good news," Booth begged.

"I think so." Angela picked up her hand held unit and punched a few buttons. The Angelator whirred to life. "The blue lines represent victim one. The red, number two and yellow is three."

"What am I looking at?"

"I'm getting there." Angela hit another series of buttons and the paths on the grid grew. "See anything?"

"The paths cross," Booth said.

"Right," Angela confirmed. "At one and only one point. Each man has gone down to this section of the city."

"What's down there?" Hodgins asked.

"Barry's," Booth answered, his face draining of color.

"Who's Barry?"

Booth looked over at Hodgins. "A bar," he said simply. "The bar."

"What bar?" Angela questioned. Booth turned tired eyes to the artist.

"My down fall." He turned back to the scene before him.

"That's a rough side of town," Hodgins said.

"Yeah, and that's where I have to go."

"Dude, people die down there," the entomologist pointed out.

Booth turned to him and said, "Yes, and Bones and Cam could be two of them." With that, the agent left the room and the squints.

Booth pushed through the door of Barry's Bar later that night. The smoke filled air burned his nostrils and made his eyes water slightly. The music roared over loud speakers and the dance floor was over packed with people. Booth pushed his way through the crowd heading to the back wall, where a man in a muscle shirt waited. "Private," he said in a gruff voice.

"Even to an old costumer?" Booth asked.

"Seel? Is that you?"

"In the flesh," the agent said, holding out his hand. "It's been too long, Ralph."

"What you been doin' with yourself?" the bouncer asked.

Booth shrugged. "Not much," he lied. "A little this, a little that. You gonna let me back or not?"

"Hope you're better at playin' than you where last time," Ralph teased as he stepped aside and pushed the door open.

"Guess we'll see." Booth walked through the door and stepped into a large room filled with poker tables. The music was muted as Ralph closed the door and Booth took a moment to scan the space. A man in the back corner caught his eye. Sitting alone, the man look as if he was waiting on someone. _Yeah,_ he thought. _Me._ Booth pushed back his shoulders and made his way over. "Where are they?" he asked taking the seat opposite the man.

"Glad to see you made it," the man said, his green eyes coming up to meet Booth's.

"Where are they?" he asked again through clenched teeth.

"I'm just the messenger," the man said, and then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Here's the message." He slid the note across the table and then stood.

"You really think I'm going to let you walk out of here?" Booth questioned.

"You don't have a choice," the man answered, and Booth noticed a second man close by. The other man pushed back his coat to reveal the butt of a pistol. Booth had no choice but to watch both men leave before turning his attention to the paper. A map had been drawn in a purple crayon with the words 'Come alone. No gun.' scribbled across the top.

Booth followed the map through the blackened streets of the city. He had obeyed the note and hadn't called anybody. After an hour of driving, Booth pulled his SUV to a stop and got out. The map told him to leave his car, keys in the ignition, and walk the rest of the way. He did as he was told. The winter air wrapped itself around his body and the drizzle that fell from the sky plastered down his hair. A shiver ran through him as he made his way between rows of warehouses. Finally, he made it to his destination. Carefully he reached out and tested the door handle—unlocked. Booth drew in a breath, held it for the count of ten and then blew it out. _God help me,_ he prayed and then pushed the door open. On instinct, he reached for his gun before he remembered that he had left it in the SUV. He felt naked without, but made his way slowly into the abandoned building. He slid his feet, to minimize the noise and his chances of tripping. A dim light came from underneath a door at the back of the large room, and Booth headed toward it. After what felt like an eternity, he reached out and touched the coolness of the metal. He leaned in, putting his ear to the surface but didn't hear anything, but he knew—could feel that they were in there. With one last prayer, Booth opened the door and the sight before him stopped his heart. Both Brennan and Cam were there, chained to walls opposite each other. Their hands were bound, and they were bloody and bruised. Brennan lifted her head and looked over at the door and even from the distance-- Booth could see relief wash over her. "Booth," she said, her voice weak and hoarse. At this, Cam lifted her head with much effort.

"Seeley." Booth stood in horror at the scene. This was his fault. _My fault_.

"So glad that you could join us," a voice said from somewhere in the dark.

The agent looked around before replying, "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" A chuckled filled the air, and Booth shivered.

"You had plenty of choices," the man said. "But now you only have one."

"What does he mean?" Cam asked through cracked lips.

"You haven't told them?" the voice asked. "A shame, really, but no harm done. They'll know soon enough."

"Know what?" Brennan demanded.

"It would seem that your dear friend has a choice to make," the voice informed them. "He could turn around and leave you both to die." Pause. "Or he could choose to take the place of one of you."

"One?" Cam asked.

"Indeed. One." The women snapped their heads around to look at Booth.

"You've known," Brennan accused. "This is what your nightmares have been about." Booth couldn't look her in the eye, instead forcing himself to look into the darkness.

"Seeley," Cam spoke. "Please tell me you brought backup?"

"Our good agent here did what I told him to do." Booth pinched his lips together and forced back the tears that had swelled in his eyes. The moment of truth was upon him. "What will it be, Agent Booth? You own life, or that of one of them?" Booth looked at Cam and then over at Brennan. Scenes from his latest nightmare flooded back to him. Brennan had told him that people didn't die for another, but they did. He did. _God help me_, he prayed, then turned his attention to Brennan, begging her with his eyes to understand his position. No man should have to choose. He pulled his eyes from Brennan and meet Cam's. He couldn't do this. He couldn't choose. _You've made your decision,_ he heard Brennan say. _Make it final._ In his vision, he had chosen himself to live, in life he couldn't. He turned back to the darkness. "Choose," the voice said again. "Or you all will rot where you stand."

"I'll stay," Booth finally said, dropping his head.

"Good," the voice said, and Booth could hear the smile in it. "Now who will go and who will die with you?" He heard both woman gasp, but couldn't pick his eyes up. He knew as he said the name that his soul was dying. He felt empty inside and didn't have the courage to look at her--either one, because he had given one life, and condemned the other to death.

* * *

_So, who do you think he'll choose to live and why?_


	8. With My Life

**A/N: Here it is. The last chapter to this fiction. It didn't go quite as I had planned, but Branwyn took it this way so what can I do??**

**Thanks to Goldy for beta'ing this, although I've changed a few things since then, so all mistakes are mine.**

**Oh, and I tried to end this a little more like the show. So be forewarned, no declarations of undying love. Sorry.**

* * *

The first thing Seeley Booth became aware of was a throbbing in his head. Next, he became conscious of the fact that his hands were tied above his head and his body was cold and hurting. Booth cracked his eyelids open slightly, preparing himself for the assault of light on his dilated pupils, but found the room was only dimly lit. He fought down the urge to lift his head and look around-- knowing that too much movement too fast would cause dizziness. Slowly, he began his stationary search of his surroundings. Finally his eyes settled on her and his heart broke. _I had to do it,_ he thought, trying to convince himself that he had made the right choice.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice cracking with pain and regret. He hoped that his words would make a difference, but knew that nothing he said would make it right. When she didn't say anything, he went on, "If there was another way I would have taken it." Still she didn't respond, or even pick her eyes up to look at him. "Please," he begged. "Please look at me." Booth dropped his head when silence met him. _I don't blame her for hating me._ Time ticked by, and neither of them spoke.

"Why?" The single word broke through the silence and echoed around the empty room, causing Booth to lift his head and lock gazes with the questioner. Her eyes were narrowed in…_hate?_ "Why me?" Before he could answer, a humming sound reached his ears, and his world exploded in white. The electricity came through wires twisted into his chains and into his body. He cried out in pain and couldn't help the tears that spilled from his eyes. He could see her staring at him in horror, but she didn't call out.

He wasn't sure how long the assault lasted before the current was cut, and he slumped down, too exhausted to hold himself up. The cuffs dug into the tender skin around his wrists and his shoulders burned against the strain. His whole body tingled and he was sure his heart was beating at an odd rate.

"How does it feel?" the voice from earlier asked from the darkness, but Booth couldn't answer. His throat was too dry from screaming out in pain. "The great Agent Booth is at a lost for words." From the shadows stepped a man dressed in a black suit. Booth lifted his head with much effort to look at his captor.

"What do you want?" the agent forced out, his voice heavy with anguish and dry with fear.

"Simple," the man said, coming to stand before Booth. "I want you to die."

Booth's eyes stayed narrowed toward the man as he spoke, "Then let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"Ah, a noble gesture, but alas, I can not. You see, I want you to know how it feels to choose between two people you care for. The way you made me choose."

Booth shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." A backhand across his face was the man's reply. Booth shook his head again, trying to clear out the fog that had settled there. He watched the man regarded him in disgust and then turn toward her.

"It surprised me, you know?" the man said. "I thought he would have picked you to live." With that, he left the room and disappeared back into the darkness. Booth opened his mouth to speak but the sudden hum instantly dried his throat. He didn't have time to think before his body first stiffened and the jerked as the electric current entered him again. His world went blank.

He wasn't sure how long he had been out, only that his arms were numb from the strain of having them above his head. Booth squeezed his eyes shut before he even opened them. The room was quiet--too quiet. He couldn't even hear the sound of her breathing. His chest tightened with fear, and he forced his lids open and looked through the dim light to where she was chained. Nothing. His heart raced and he struggled from his knees to his feet. _Where is she?_ He swung his head franticly from one side to the other searching, but he was alone. "Lose someone?" The question floated through the air followed by a laugh that made Booth sick to the stomach.

"Where is she?" he called out though cracked lips. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"Now, now Agent Booth," the man said, walking into the light for Booth to see. "Is that any way to talk to me?" Booth spat in the man's general direction. "Your chosen one will be back in a moment, no need to get angry."

"Angry?" Booth snapped. "I'm angry because some manic is holding us prisoner."

"I'm far from being a manic," the man said.

"Depends on whom you ask," Booth mumbled under his breath as a door on the far side on the room opened.

"Ah, here's the Chosen One now." Booth watched as she crossed the room, and gasped when he was able to take in her new outfit--a white, gown like in his dreams.

"Oh God." The curse fell from his lips before he could stop it and the woman looked up at him.

"Agent Booth," the man said, pulling the agent's attention to him. "How does it feel to know you're about to kill someone?" Booth's breath caught in his throat as his nightmares flashed back to him. The smell of blood reached his nose, and he had to fight to hold down the bile that was inching up his throat. "Don't look so worried, Agent Booth. Just think of it like your Army days." The man laughed as he turned away and began towards the woman.

"No," Booth called out, but the man didn't stop. Simply took hold of the woman's hand and lead her to chains. _Why doesn't she fight?_ Booth questioned himself. _She could have run._

"The doors are rigged," the man said, as he fastened the cuffs around slender wrists. "Open them and the place goes boom." He turned from the woman and offered Booth a smile. "That, and our Chosen One is a bit on the loopy side until the drugs wear off. But don't fret, Agent Booth, when the time comes for you to kill her, she will be bright eyed and fully aware." Booth watched the man leave and turned his eyes back to the…_Chosen One._ The words sent shivers down his spine and made his soul run cold. He knew what was coming and knew that he had to stop it. _But how?_

Booth wasn't sure when he had drifted off into slumber, but his dreams were the same tortured nightmares from the past two weeks. The iron smell of blood floated on the air and he could just make out the outline of a person in front of him. As he neared, he called out to her. "Guardian." He made his way to the older woman with the blue eyes and fell to his knees in exhaustion. "What do I do?" he asked, looking up at her.

"You've made your choice, Agent Booth," Guardian told him softly, shaking her head. "And I must say, it surprises me that you are going this route."

"I'm full of surprises," he said, his voice harsh and his eyes darkening with defiance.

"Remember, Seeley," she began. "We must live with our choices. Can you?"

Booth stared up at her a moment, before bringing his feet under him and pushing himself up off the ground. "Yes." The world he was in twisted, and Booth jerked awake--sweat dripping down his forehead and neck. His eyes scanned the room and found his Chosen One sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him. Booth let his eyes shut and breathed out a sigh of relief. It wasn't too late. "Are you okay?" he asked, forcing his eyelids open. The woman lifted her gaze to his but didn't speak. "Would you talk to me, damn it?"

"What is there to say?" she asked. "I'm your Chosen One, so I guess it doesn't matter." Booth could hear the anger and hurt laced into her voice as she spoke.

"It does matter, cause we're gonna get out of here," he told her.

"There's traps on the doors," she pointed out. "We're both chained to walls, you don't have a gun, and there's a crazy man holding us hostage. How do you plan on getting away?"

"I'll think of something," he said, pulling on his restraints to test their strength, and when they held, he finally gave up. He struggled to his feet, his arms screaming from the pain, and looked around. _Think, Seeley,_ he demanded of himself. His thoughts were cut into when the sound of a door squeaked open.

"Ah, Agent Booth," the man said, stepping into the light. "I see that you've awoken from your sleep."

"Why are you doing this?" Booth asked, as the man unchained the Chosen One from the wall and led her to the center of the room.

"Why? For revenge," the man answered simply. He instructed the woman to sit on the altar before he continued. "You see, Agent Booth, you made me make this choice years ago. Chose between two women I loved. My beautiful Kathy or my darling Rose." The man seemed to drift into the past for a moment, before shaking his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Soon, very soon you will feel the blood of the Chosen One slide across your hands as you plunge the dagger into her chest. I will make you watch the life drain from her lovely eyes then I will make you live with that fact."

Booth's head snapped up. "But you're going to kill me."

"Oh, no, Agent Booth, that's never been my intentions. I plan on you living with the guilt--with the image of her dying, the knowledge that you killed her. You see, knowing that it will slowly drive you crazy is much more enjoyable than taking your life." The man turned to the Chosen One. "And as soon as she's to her normal self, so she can beg to for mercy, then the time will be upon us." The man caressed the woman's face, before lifting a knife from the concrete bed. "And this shall be your weapon." The man turned back to Booth, the jeweled handle dagger gripped in one hand. A gasp escaped the agent's lips. "You see, I know your weakness. You care too much. I know that living everyday with the knowledge that you killed her, and that everybody knows you did, will make you mad. And Agent Booth, there's nothing I want more that to watch you go mad." Booth was stunned. This wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"No," he said softly.

"Oh, yes." Booth's eyes flicked from the man to the Chosen One and then back, but in the brief moment he made eye contact, he saw her eyes flash, and knew the drugs had long ago wore off. He also knew this was their only chance.

"It's not going to work," Booth said, praying his voice sounded solid. "I've killed before. It's hard, but I won't go mad."

"Nice try, Agent Booth, but I know you too well."

"You don't know me," Booth went on.

"Don't toy with me, Booth," the man hissed.

"You don't know how I'll react," Booth went on.

"I know it'll drive you mad."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting a little mad with you right now," Booth shot at him. "One more notch on my belt won't make much of a difference."

"Nice try, Agent Booth, but I see what you're doing."

"Really? Cause I'm just pointing out that because you're not man enough to live with your choices doesn't mean I'm not."

"Shut up," the man almost yelled, turning his full attention to Booth. Brennan took the cue and landed a kick to the man's back, sending him staggering forward. The man quickly turned, but Brennan was too quick, she jumped to her feet, and, despite the gown, was able to land a second, more powerful kick. Booth watched in horror as Brennan and the man fought, the dagger coming too close to Brennan's chest for Booth's comfort. He saw the blade slash her arm, saw the blood begin to stain the white fabric, and felt his heart stop. The wound didn't stop Brennan from fighting, and soon the man was falling backwards into Booth. The agent reacted quickly, and wrapped his legs around the man's neck, concentrating all his strength to not letting go. After a moment of struggle, the man relaxed and Booth let him fall to the ground. He was pretty sure his right shoulder was dislocated and his legs were bleeding from where the man slashed at them with the knife, but he was alive. More importantly, _she_ was alive.

"You okay?" he asked, lifting her eyes to meet hers.

Brennan nodded yes from where she sat on the floor holding her stab wound. "Yeah." For a moment nothing was said, and neither one moved. Finally, Brennan stood, crossed over to the unconscious man, fetched the keys from his pockets and unlocked the cuffs from Booth's wrists. She didn't bother to catch him as he fell to his knees.

"Thanks," he said, pain evident in his voice. "Let me explain," he begged, as he caught her arm as she turned to leave.

"There's nothing to explain, Booth," she told him.

"Yes, there is." He pulled on her arm and struggled to his feet.

"I understand…"

"No, you don't," he interrupted. Once he was to his feet, he brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Don't think I chose you to stay because I wanted you to die."

"Then why?" she asked. "Why me and not Cam?"

"Because," he started slowly. "There's no one else I would rather have my back than you. I couldn't let you die, Bones," he went on. "And having you here was the only way to ensure it. Hate me if you must, but don't doubt that I was trying to save you." Brennan was about to respond when the cry of sirens reached them. "They found us," Booth said, relieved.

"But how?" Brennan questioned.

"Tracking device," he answered with a smile. "In my shoe." Brennan shared the smile as the lights from the cars came through the only window.

XxXxX

Booth sat alone in a small room at the local hospital. The flimsy gown they made him put on, left him with a draft and he shifted to try and cover himself more. His arm had been put back in place and his cuts cleaned and dressed; now he was waiting on the doctor to look over the x-rays. He swung his feet to a tune in his head as he thought back to what he had told Brennan only a few hours earlier. He had meant every word of it. There was nobody in the world he would rather have at his back. Booth let his eyes close as a sad sigh fell from his lips. A light tap on the door brought his eyes open and he called out, "Come in." The door opened and his breath caught when Brennan stepped in.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked, shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah," he answered. She was dressed much the same way he was, except she had on a pair of hospital slippers. They fell into silence as Brennan walked over to his bed and sat beside him. "Are you?"

"I think so," she answered, starring at her hands clasped in front of her.

"Listen, Bones, I'm sorry," he started. "Sorry for everything. I should have told you about the nightmares. Then maybe…"

"Nonsense," Brennan said when he let the sentence trail off. "That man was crazy. It would have happen anyway."

"I just, I just hate that I hurt you." Booth looked over at her. "I never want to hurt you."

"I know," she answered. "Did you mean what you said? About me having your back?"

"Of course. You're my partner, my friend. I trust you with my life. I knew that if I wanted to make it out alive, then I needed you." Brennan glanced down at her hands again and then back up.

"I'm glad," she started. "That you trust me that much." Booth offered her a smile as he reached over and covered her hands with his.

"My life, Temperance," he said, softly. "Now and always, with my life." Brennan returned the smile and they sat in comfortable silence waiting for the doctor.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
